Showing posts with label speaker wheeler. Show all posts
Showing posts with label speaker wheeler. Show all posts

Monday, May 2, 2016

Valhallopolis: 4/25/16 - 5/1/16

"All the paper gods in the sky of grey / All the fools in town are ruling today"

(The Aesir, returned)

(Art by Dean Stahl)

* * *
22
* * *

Monday: 4/25/16

It's early morning, in Moscow, and the pale man gets out of his crowded, warm bed to watch the sun illuminate the Kremlin, across the way.

The hotel isn't the most modern of things, at least by his very exacting standards. But one thing you can say about the Baltschug Kempinski -- other than its absolute discretion, left over from Soviet days gone by -- is that the view is worth every ruble. 

There's a half-drunk glass of cognac by a table near the window. He takes it and sips, letting the heady liquor play with his nose and tongue.

(It smokes, there, ever so slightly. One of the hazards of living in this powerful body. Maybe the next one will be better in that respect.)

Someone shifts on the bed, behind him. One of the many shlyukhami he brought in for the party, last night. The rest are doubtlessly scattered about the many rooms of this extensive suite Odal's been using as their headquarters since they took Moscow.

Their little way of telling the other bratva that this city was now theirs, and they should not dare to think of dislodging them.

Not until they'd done what they'd come to do, anyway...

Once he was Wilhelm Kietel: a founding member of ABWEHR, gifted with exceptional control over others' minds. He still is that man, but now he wears the skin of Helvete -- the notorious Finnish pyrokinetic, still wanted for his role in Le Compagnie.

And so he has become both immortal and more powerful than he ever was before. And in a few days' time, he will become something even more spectacular...

He looks to the morning sun and raises his cognac to it, thinking of the day ahead, and the work to come.

And the Godhood that awaits at the end of the week...

* * *

"... or do you think that's too soon?" Josie asks, looking at the orange-armored android's face as she wonders when to finally expose SPYGOD's perfidy, and clap him in chains.

"I think..." Free Fire says, tapping his chin with his finger as he considers: "I think you should consider putting it off for the near future."

"Why?" the burly, pink-haired clone asks, leaning forward in her office chair and regarding her mole: "We got him cold, Free Fire. He was supposed to be chasing the Mahdi all this time. Instead he's been having you all run around to look for Straffer."

"Which is also important, given what we just went through in Miami," the android points out: "And what happened to the International Space Station before that."

"True, but then he zapped poor Peg and has her dosed and hidden, somewhere on the Flier."

"Actually, no," Free Fire says: "That's what I meant to tell you, yesterday. He's got her enrolled in a nunnery in Winnipeg. Apparently he got one of his fish to block her memories, give her new ones, and sent her off to the last place you'd think to find her."

"Fish?" Josie asks, putting aside the fate of her clone sister for a moment.

"Useful people who owe him a favor or ten," he replies, smiling a little: "Mostly strategic talents, or people who've worked with or around them. How else do you think he's been covering for our movements with the Mahdi while we've been going around in search of Straffer."

"That son of a !@#$," Josie mutters, looking down at her desk screen. From there, she can see the superspy in question -- sitting at the hospital bed of Director Straffer, holding his hand and hoping he comes around soon. 

"Given what he's said about his family's history, that might not be too inaccurate an assessment," he replies: "His grandmother sounds utterly terrifying."

"Yeah, I think he told a story or two about her, once," she says, tapping her fingers on the desk: "You know, you'd think I would have known. I helped him pull off a scam like this before. I should have figured that, sooner or later, he'd turn on me."

"Which is why you continued our arrangement," Free Fire says, smiling: "I'm simply surprised he hasn't figured it out, yet."

"Unless he knows, and this is also part of the plan," Josie says, raising a pink eyebrow: "You have to consider that as well."

"That's... disconcerting," the android says. "Also commendable. Exactly what you'd want in a super spy."

"Yeah, you gotta admire him."

"No," Free Fire says, shaking his head: "You don't. He's everything you warned me about when you sent me to Syria to back him up and observe. He's a braggart, a bully, a tyrant. He flies by the seat of his pants and claims it was the plan all along. He's willing to expend everyone for the mission, so long as he gets through to take the credit, but never the blame.

"And the only saving grace is that he's on our side, or what he imagines is our side. He'll never betray his country, or the world. But he'll burn everything else down to protect it, or the people he loves."

She nods: "But you're saying we do nothing for now?"

"Yes," the android admits: "Because, whether we like it or not? Straffer is the same way. Dedicated, crafty, and wiling to crash everything down just to save the planet. They're two peas in a pod, to use the saying."

"I know. I've worked with him. The man's scary, to put it mildly." 

"And if we throw SPYGOD in jail for his excesses in getting Straffer back, there's a good chance Straffer will either refuse to work until we release him, or find some very underhanded way to break him out and embarrass us, while saving the world at the same time."

Josie looks at him, then at the screen. Straffer must have woken up -- he and SPYGOD are talking, and kissing, ever so gently.

"Well, that's provided he even gets to work at all," Josie says, looking back at the android: "Remember that he was on his way to a long stretch in confinement, after what he did in Pontianak. In fact, I think they were planning on disassembling him, and leaving him in the same kind of sorry, tin can and tinker toy model they gave to Major Harvey."

"Is the UN Space Service Director demanding we give him back, then?"

"How did you guess?" Josie sighs, tapping her pad: "He sends me a message once every six hours, just to remind me we're holding one of his prisoners.  As if I'd actually forgotten."

"May I ask what you've told him?"

"The truth. He's a sick man who needs treatment, and then we need to interview him about what he saw and experienced, down there. Once that's done, they can have him."

"And they'll toss their best chances of our survival into their jail," Free Fire observes: "And then we're... what's the saying? Up the creek?"

"Hell, Free Fire. If we don't have Straffer on our side, we are powdered !@#$ing toast," she grumbles: "I just had a very disheartening conversation with another, higher member of the UN Space Service about their level of preparedness."

"How bad is it?"

"We can repel maybe one more salvo from Mars," Josie says, looking up at her android mole: "And then, that's all she wrote. We'll be crawling with more of those crap crab things."

"At least we have the Lamprey's technology to deal with the aftereffects," he says, shaking his head: "But that's not an ideal situation."

"That's putting it !@#$ing mildly. We're burning down the house to stop people from breaking in and stealing the stereo."

"I like that," he says, nodding: "The allusion, I mean. Not the reality."

"I knew what you meant," Josie smiles: "So the reality is that we have to get Straffer back in the Space Service's good graces so he can save the world. And that means we have to keep SPYGOD under observation, try to rehabilitate him, and not confront him with what he's done until we've got this damn invasion dealt with."

"And then?" the android asks.

"And then... we'll see," the pink-haired Director says.

And the android smiles...

Tuesday: 4/26/16

... as Gosheven does his best imitation of Jay Leno go-go dancing yet, which he thinks is incredibly funny for some reason.

"Alright, alright," Mr. USA says, clearly embarrassed by the spectacle: "I don't think anyone needed to see that."

"Speak for yourself," Myron laughs: "I had to watch that crap for years. This is hysterical."

"Outvoted!" Gosheven says, using Jay's voice, and people laugh some more.

They're all in the Freedom Force's executive lounge, on the Flier's main deck. Everyone's there but Dr. Uncertainty -- who had some things to run past Rakim -- and American Steel, who's helping oversee the last stages of the wall in Miami.

"So," Blastman says, raising a glass: "Swiftfoot."

"Yeah," a few people say, some of whom join him in the glass, and some of whom don't.

"What?" the older hero says, looking around: "Come on, folks. He wasn't the best hero in the world, I'll admit. But still, getting blown up in that raid to get Straffer? You gotta give him that much."

"He did go down fighting," Shining Guardsman says, nodding as the lie they all came up with gets its first inter-team usage: "That's very true."

"Some of us are still sore at him for !@#$ing running out on that fight with with Metal Plague in Buryat," Red Wrecker says, remembering that weird mission all too well.

"Not a lot of us left from that," Mr. USA says, looking around: "God, we've lost many since then. Yanabah, Chinmoku, New Man...."

"Russian Steel," Shining Guardsman says, thinking of his brief time in Syria.

"Whatever happened to Red Storm?" Hanami asks, looking around: "Has anyone heard from her since then?"

No one has, really.

"I guess all I'm saying is that, well, I've known Stephen for a long time," Mr. USA says, looking around again: "Since the War in Europe, Korea. Two teams. And no, he wasn't perfect. He was selfish and stupid. A lot of us were, come to think of it.

"And that's including me," he goes on, looking at Shining Guardsman: "I haven't told too many of you that he and I had a very bad history, together. And a lot of that was on me. I was jealous of the relationship he and SPYGOD had. Envious of their success. And I let that color my actions and my feelings, and, well... I !@#$ed up. Badly. Let's just leave it at that.

"But we don't have to be perfect to be heroes," he says, raising his glass: "We just have to be willing to step up, just once, and run towards the danger, instead of away from it. And as long as I knew him, even when his nerve failed and he ran away? Before long he'd run back. Because he knew it was the right thing to do.

"Because he was a hero."

He leaves his glass raised. One by one, everyone else there joins him.

Even those who know better, by now, but have been sworn to utter secrecy as to the depths of his real treason...

* * *

"... gets paid for very quickly, here," the FAUST Agent says to his superior, over the communicator he's managed to smuggle into the Odal meeting in this old, creaking warehouse along the Moscow River.

"I can imagine," she says: "What is going on there, 78?"

"Well, before I say that, I want an extraction team standing by," he says, looking over his shoulder at the crazy, violent throng in the main area -- (was that a gunshot back there?) -- and then looking back: "I'm very uncertain about my security, here. I don't think these Sons of the Serpent people we're impersonating were held in very high regard to begin with. We're getting a lot of double-takes."

"That might be why our unknown benefactor arranged for us to know about them," she says: "Maybe they were expendable to begin with."

"There's a lot of this that's too damn convenient for my liking," the agent says, wondering if his holouflage suit is starting to show at the edges yet. 

"I'll get a team scrambled soon," she lies: "Tell me what's going on."

"It's crazy, even by these people's standards," 78 goes on, turning to make sure the corner he's talking from isn't under observation. People are making too much noise from out there for him to be easily overheard, but still...

(And yes, that was a gunshot. There went another.)

"Go on."

"Alright. Gods, madame. They want to become gods."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm not entirely certain how they intend to do this. Something about Soviet magic-tech from the SQUASH days and good timing. But this Saturday they're planning to send some of their people through a portal to... well, I don't know where. And when they come back they'll be gods."

"That's... mon dieu,  78. That's insane."

"I know. And it sounds like a crazy story to keep the troops in line, but they seem to think it's real."

"So what are all you supposed to be doing?"

"That's the crazy thing," he sighs: "There are a number of them that are going to go through the portal, no matter what. Marie Le Pen, that Klansman from America, their mysterious leader. A few other notables we've been looking for since the Terre Unifee scandal.

"But everyone else? Well, you have to fight for the right to go through. Apparently these gods only want the toughest of the tough. So... they're having tryouts."

"Tryouts."

"Yes. Knots of men and women, fighting for the right to become gods. And if you lose, well..."

Another gunshot. More cheering. 

"Alright," his supervisor says, considering: "I'll have an extraction team shadowing you the entire way. But I need you stay in there, 78. As long as possible. This is as close as we've ever been to these people and I need your eyes on the situation. Understand."

"Yes, madame," he sighs, knowing he's !@#$ed.

"Just... try to avoid volunteering for a contest, alright?" she says, getting ready to call her supervisor in on this, if only to cover her ass...

Wednesday: 4/27/16

".. please, dear Aegio," Syphon says, not liking the black, rotting gash that running up and down her goddess-sister's leg.

"Do you find it unattractive, my dear sister?" the sumptuously large woman asks, her macaws flapping about as she shifts her dress up even higher, revealing a more widespread ruin: "Imagine how I must feel to see this. And be grateful I hide these grotesque scars."

"At least you can hide them, dear sister," Pontus rages from his watery throne, across the chamber: "My love Sheliast has no such luxury. She won't even leave her chamber for fear of our seeing the latest atrocity committed against her."

"An atrocity done because her entire body was in danger of being destroyed by that horrid disease," Seranu reminds them -- striding into the chamber so quickly he takes them all by surprise: "A disease suffered because we have failed to act."

"We have not failed to act, King-Brother," Pontus reminds him: "We have simply refused. And we have done so because our subjects need to learn humility."

"So we all decided," Seranu admits, sitting down on his throne and turning to regard his raging brother, lord of the Oceans and Seas: "But perhaps the lesson is learned. Perhaps the time to withhold our grace is over, and the time to show them why they should love and fear us is at hand."

"We cannot make war upon another world," Noyx observes.

"I will not allow harm to come to any of my children," Rahma thunders, her hair burning just a little brighter at the thought.

"The harm has been done," Seranu says, but holds up a hand before she can protest: "However, your point is taken. War is not called for, here. Merely defensive measures. A wall to hide behind. A shield to blunt their swords."

"You know the folly of not handling this more directly, brother-husband," Kanaan says from her small throne, not far from his own -- knitting endlessly from where she sits: "You can no more expect the Devouring to be deterred from its function than you can expect a dog to not bark at a stranger, or a man to think himself master of his circumstances."

"I also know that to destroy it is folly," Seranu insists, looking towards her with what might be gentle rebuke, or subtle condescension: "Given how much time and craft went into its creation."

"Not that its creator is welcome here, any longer," Soubre notes from his throne of shadows.

"An issue we should resolve before too long, I feel," aged Senchro says: "We are not at our best when so divided. We have the beginning. We also need the end."

"And that's my cue, I suppose," the cantankerous old man says, looking up from what he's been working on, away from the others: "You want me to make new defenses against our brother's ancient handiwork?"

"Perhaps it would be best to present them as aid to our children," Seranu says, looking around the room in the hopes his words create consensus: "If we hand them the means of their own salvation, it will raise them up."

"It will also weaken us," Pontus grumbles.

"It will also give them access to the tools of the gods," Kanaan chuckles: "Any time that has happened, things have gotten out of control."

"That reminds me," Seranu says, clearly ignoring his sister-wife's counsel: "Shining Rahmaa, the toy you took from them when they attacked your new subjects. May we present it to them as a sign of good will? It may go some distance in creating a new accord."

The sun-goddess considers the request for all of two seconds before smiling and saying "No."

"And why not?"

"I have not yet begun to enjoy having it back," she explains: "And I am certain brother Hoosk can create things much more interesting, and less dangerous, for these mortals to use."

The old man looks at her, and shrugs: "That's true. I can. And I will."

"Then we are in accord," Seranu says, not wanting to argue with his star-sister: "I will speak to our children, and convey that we are prepared to aid them in their struggle for survival. And all will be well. 

And he leaves the chamber, as do a few of the others. Some stay to gossip, grouse, and complain.

And some of them wonder where Satanoth has been, these past few weeks...

* * *

... it seems as though the usually-large numbers of Moscow's homeless have shrunk dramatically.

Normally, you can't walk down a street without being accosted for change. Now it's possible to walk several blocks without seeing so much as a single panhandler.

And those beggars are strangely spooked. 

Usually, the shelters and missions are full, to the point that fist fights regularly occur as the destitute brawl over who gets to sleep indoors, tonight. Now, there's room for everyone, and they're all very well behaved.

No one wants to be kicked out into the cold and the dark.

They say there's gangs, out on the streets. Roving bands of hoodlums in panel vans who find the homeless and poor when they're out -- driving slowly past the shelters, restaurant dumpsters, and places where the lowly beg for scraps and coin.

Bastards who screech to a halt, leap from their vehicle, chase the bums down, and then -- after a rough beating -- drag them back to the van, and take them away.

They also say there's new management at certain shelters around town. The ones that the mob used to run as fronts? Well, some new group's taken them over, lately.

And if you go in, you won't be coming back out again.

The authorities do not care -- they have been paid off by the mob. The media does not run stories on this -- they have been warned off by the government.

And any do-gooders who poke their nose into the matter? Well, the van doesn't just stop for the homeless.

All these people, missing and gone. Taken without a trace.

Where do they all go...?

Thursday: 4/28/16

"... !@#$ himself with his own damn !@#$," SPYGOD says, gesturing wildly as he tells the story to Straffer: "Now, of course, he's not happy to hear this."

"I didn't think so," the Director says, still too weak to laugh too much, much less sit up all the way in his Flier hospital bed: "What did he do?"

"Same thing every moron does when you explain that you blew his !@#$ing wonder weapon to pieces while he wasn't looking. Flip the hell out, start monologuing, and look for the nearest !@#$ing exit."

"Which is when you shot him?"

"Well, I mean... hey now, what kind of man do you take me for?" SPYGOD asks, leaning forward in his chair and looking hurt: "I mean, gosh, am I that predictable?"

"Well, yes," Straffer says, winking: "That's why I love you."

SPYGOD smiles, and, quick as he can, leans all the way out of his chair, leans over the bed, and kisses the man -- full and with tongue.

Then he leans back, crosses his legs, and goes on: "Well, just for your information, and this is why the story's so !@#$ing funny? I was actually out of bullets."

"What?"

"Yes! Can you !@#$ing believe it?" SPYGOD says, slapping his knee: "I don't know how the !@#$ it happened. Maybe I miscounted or something. But I was actually dry-firing, and had no extra clips. Not even a damn grenade. I mean, I was out."

"And there's another joke waiting to tell itself," Straffer says, smiling.

"No, wait... was Nixon in office, then? I might not have spilled the beans, yet."

"Okay," the patient says, noting as a gaggle of nurses go by, trying hard to not listen in and failing miserably: "So what happened?"

"Well, I thought maybe I could bring him in. And then I was considering just !@#$ing tearing his head off, too. And I was weighing the options. Was he worth keeping around? Yes, no? Was he worth the risk to capture alive? Yes, no. You know... the usual math."

"What did you decide?"

"That's just it," SPYGOD says, leaning forward and grinning like a mother!@#$er: "While I'm making up my damn mind, and he's talking to his damn self? The last henchman there, that I somehow missed with all those !@#$ing bullets? He pops up from behind cover, aims his gun, and fires it right at my fine, gay ass..."

"And misses?"

"Hell no. He hits me in the damn junk. But, of course, it's !@#$ing armored. So I go flying the !@#$ back, the bullet flies wild, and it hits King of the World right where his damn crown meets his !@#$ing forehead. Bang!"

"Splat."

"Thump," SPYGOD grins, stomping his foot on the ground.

"And then you shot the henchman?"

"Hell no," the superspy says, shaking his head: "I was writhing on the !@#$ing ground with my balls feeling like they got kicked by a damn roid-raging elephant. That lucky asshole got away, and then showed up again ten years later claiming to be the King of the World's son from the !@#$ing future, or something."

"Well, it was the future. Ten years into it, anyway."

"Yeah, well..." SPYGOD shrugs, and then laughs. They both do, this time.

"I love you," Straffer says.

"I love you," SPYGOD says.

"Want to get in bed with me?"

"Will we both fit?"

"Who !@#$ing cares," Straffer says, throwing the flimsy, white sheet off him: "Just be careful with the sensor wires or the nurses will coming running in."

"!@#$ing let them," SPYGOD chuckles, and dives on in...

* * *

"... to the big question, here," former Secretary Wheeler says, patting his hands together as he leans forward on the well-appointed hotel suite's sofa, smiling like a lion at prey.

"And what would that be, sir?" Jana asks, leaning forward and smiling at the man. 

He looks askance, trying to seem like he's wanting to be disarming, just before being sleazy. She smiles and wishes he'd just come out and say it. 

And all the while, the little piece of herself that still knows this is !@#$ed up -- and that she should not be here -- is screaming for her to just punch this guy in the nuts, kick him in the throat, and run like hell. 

But she can't. The voice of the pale man is still echoing through her head -- reinforced by his calling her every night, just after he's done talking with the Candidate. 

And he will never let her go. 

"Well," he says, looking at her: "Now that our mutual friend has swept the Northeast, his election's all but assured. It's only a matter of days before Carson has his black ass handed to him so hard he'll need to see a surgeon."

He laughs at that, and she joins him -- not wanting to, but not able to resist, either. 

"And when he gets elected, I will be Secretary of State, again. Thanks especially to your charming advocacy on my behalf."

"I simply told the truth, Mr. Secretary," she says, smiling and leaning forward a little: "That's all."

"Well, that truth has set me free, Jana. And I would like to repay you for your kindness."

"It's really not necessary," she says, but allows him to kiss her hand, anyway. 

"Perhaps not, but I think a bright, attractive young lady like yourself has a lot to offer this administration," he says, kissing her between each knuckle, slowly and with some panache: "And while the Evansville Holiday Inn isn't exactly the best place to begin such a partnership, well, that's campaign life."

She smiles at him, and leans forward just as he does, letting him kiss her. His breath smells like rotten onions and battery acid. She lets him lick her teeth with his tongue, anyway. 

"I should..." she says, gesturing to the suite's bathroom. 

He's about to say otherwise, but then the door gets knocked upon. 

"Must be room service," he smiles, raising a finger as he gets up from the sofa: "That'll be the champagne."

"Lovely," Jana says, getting up to head to the bathroom: "And perfect timing."

She goes to the bathroom and closes the door. Maybe she shuts the door a little too hard, unconsciously. Maybe she's just imagining it. 

As she pees, she wants to vomit. As she cleans herself, she wants to run. She wants to tear her hair, weep, and flee. 

But she can't do it. She can't do it.  She has to sleep with this fat, balding pig of a man. Because she's supposed to do whatever the Candidate needs.

Because the pale man said so...

She thinks she hears something weird, outside. But she can't not react to that, properly, either. She gets dressed, cleans her hands, spritzes the nasty, overpriced perfume she's expected to use on her neck and cleavage, and then goes out into the room.

"I should warn you," she says, opening the door: "Champagne tends to go straight to my head..."

"I know," a masked man dressed in black says. 

He's standing over the prone body of Secretary Wheeler. The pig is lying on his back, bleeding from his nose -- clearly alive but knocked unconscious. 

"Who are you?" she says, about to call for help. 

"You know, Jana," the man says, nodding at the space right behind her: "And I'm sorry for this."

And as Jana turns -- just in time to be gently tapped in the right spot by someone who knows a certain, exotic martial arts technique  -- and then falls down unconscious, she realizes that she does know who the man is. 

She just can't bring herself to believe it, right now...

Friday: 4/29/16

"... we shall gladly take all the help we can get," the rail-thin, officious, and newly-appointed Director of the UN Space Service says as he and his many assistants walk down the hallway from his office to the main assembly room: "I do not care about their motives, or their methods. So long as Earth remains free and clear, we shall count our blessings."

"Yes, sir," some of them say in unison. Others merely mouth the words.

"Besides, the sign that they are coming to us, instead of to the Americans, is a good one," the man goes on, putting his hands behind his back somewhat smugly: "Clearly they recognize the worth that a unified world has, in contrast to a single nation, however powerful."

"Yes, sir," more of them say.

Then they're in the main assembly room. There's no one in there, other than their guests -- there were no meetings scheduled for this morning, and they're too cash-strapped to keep the lights on, otherwise.

That's okay, though. Their four guests have brought the light with them -- a tall, beautiful woman with round hair like a burning sun.

"Good morning, sir," Seranu says, floating just before the dais the Director normally speaks from: "I apologize for not giving you much time to assemble your body, here. But we felt it necessary to speak to you as soon as possible, given the seriousness of the matter."

"Of course, yes," the man says, adjusting his mustache and stepping forward to look up at the bearded man he's speaking to: "And I do appreciate that. It just would have better have to addressed the full body. They can be rather contentious."

"So can we," Hoosk grumbles, stepping out from behind the podium, a large briefcase in his hand: "Believe me, you don't want us standing here answering questions. It just gets ugly."

"Not true," Soubre says, stepping from the darkness beyond the light from the halway: "We are merely abrupt when dealing with lesser beings." 

"Brothers Hoosk and Soubre are... correct and blunt, respectively," Seranu chuckles, lowering his height and coming down to just above the ground: "But I think what we have to show you, and to give you, will more than make up for our unconventional presentation."

"What is it?" the Director asks, craning his neck to see as Hoosk opens it up to reveal... a box.

The Olympian takes the box out of the briefcase, and then another box, and another. Soon he's piled up the top of the podium with several boxes -- many more than the briefcase should have contained.

"Are we to stop this invasion with boxes, sir?" the man asks, raising an eyebrow.

"In a way," Hoosk grumbles, putting one of them into his hand. It instantly unfolds into a strange, boxy helmet with a visor: "Try this on for size, mister Director sir. See what the Lords of Olympos have brought you, in their kindness and mercy."

The Director's too busy putting it on to be as insulted as he should be. He fumbles with it, and then gets it situated just right...

And as soon as he does, his eyes get very, very wide behind the visor. He gasps, and puts his hands to his mouth. Shivers, though not in fear.

"What you are seeing is a realtime projection from one of the new platforms we have, just this morning, released into trans-lunar orbit," Seranu explains: "Just one of those platforms has a tenth of the equivalent firepower the platform we made before, the Wonderwall."

"How... how many...?"

"Twenty," Hoosk says, hoping the man doesn't urinate into his fancy, white suit: "They're evenly spaced at all points, to make more of a protective grid than a wall, this time. That should give a little better protection than the last one."

"One more thing," Seranu says: "Unlike the last model, these have been specifically programmed. They cannot fire back at the planet. To try and do so will cause them to be destroyed."

"No more 3/15s," Hoosk chuckles: "Which means you had best have your best shots wearing this helmet, because once they get past the grid, there's no more chances."

"Well, we do have our attack craft," the Director says, looking around at things only the helmet can show him: "Not as many as we should. But still... this is... my God, this is amazing."

"You are most welcome," Seranu says, smiling: "A small gift from us to you, to show you that we are here to help you in all things."

"Yes," the Director says, taking the helmet off and looking for a hand to shake -- any hand: "And... in return? Do you require? I mean..."

"Don't mess this up," Hoosk says, slamming his briefcase shut: "That ought to do for now. I'd put your best person on the project."

"Oh, of course," the Director grins: "Of course! We have many people who will be perfect for the job. You know us. Yes..."

"There is only one man who can be trusted with such a responsibility," Soubre says, crossing his arms: "One of my many facets worked alongside him, some time ago. We faced the Decreator together, hand in hand. He was a natural leader, a force of nature, the last defender upon the hill. And the first person I would want to lead such an effort, given his history."

Seranu looks at his shadowy brother-subject, and then smiles: "Yes, I think Brother Soubre is right. You should put the one known as Straffer in charge of this. I believe he has recently been found alive...?"

And the Director of the UN Space Service chokes, then coughs, then turns red, and then white.

And then, ever so slowly, nods...

* * *

... as they consider what they have all just been told by their leader, here in this darkened conference room.

"Good," Helvete says, leaning back in his well-upholstered chair and sipping at his cognac, looking from person to person: "You see, what is about to happen? It is not merely a change of power level. It is going to be a change of mind, of personality, of perspective. 

"You are not merely going to take on the power of a God. You are going to become that God."

"And... they'll, what exactly?" the high-ranking Klansman asks, leaning forward in his chair and looking around to the others gathered there -- allies and fellow travelers from all over North America and Europe: "Join with our souls? Merge with us? Did I understand that correctly?"

"You did, yes, David," Helvete says, nodding and smiling: "You see, it's not merely enough for these beings to exist within this world. They must be made a part of it. To do that, they must join with someone else who's already here. Otherwise, the danger of their being attacked and overriden is much greater."

"Which is what you're saying happened to these Olympians, back in the day?" the Muslim-hating science-fiction author drawls: "Someone came along and rewrote them?"

"Not just anyone. But yes. And even though there were those amongst them who had joined with a mortal, when it happened to the others she was likewise swept along with the tide."

"Well, then," the Old Man's daughter says, having a sip of the exquisite wine they provided for her: "It seems fairly straightforward. We shall effect a compromise of sorts, with both sides stepping towards the other in mentality and temperament. Like yellow and blue paint mixing together to become green, without losing any of its vibrancy."

"I like that metaphor," the Klansman says, sipping at his cognac: "And I think we're good, if I can speak for all of us here."

"I am kind of curious about something," one of their number says, itching at his neck a little -- maybe his blocky, black tattoos are fresh: "Once we're joined, and we do this thing? How do we, well... end it?"

Everyone looks at the person, and a few of them laugh. A wave of Helvete's hand ends all chatter, though.

"My dear Mr. Busey," he says to the person who won through so many contests to be here: "Perhaps those who adjudicated your victories were not clear. If so, I apologize. But once you make this journey with us, into the lands of the Aesir? There is no coming back, then or later. 

"What the Gods have joined, none -- not even they -- may tear asunder."

"Okay," FAUST Agent 78 says, nodding and sitting back: "That's good. I was just afraid of going that far, having it all, and then having it taken away. It's happened to us White Men too often in America, you know?"

There's some assent to that, and a nod of agreement from the Klansman. 

But something in how the pale man in charge of Odal looks at him, a second later, makes the undercover agent -- who really didn't intend to get this far in his infiltration -- realize that he'd better get that exit strategy working. And soon. 

In fact, he's about two seconds away from realizing the answer's been right in front of his face the entire time when the black-haired, skinny kid with burns on his face comes into the room, leans over Helvete, and tells him something. 

Something that makes the pale man's eyes burst into angry flames...

Saturday: 4/30/16

... coming out of the top of the man's head as he reaches out to take Straffer's hand -- in full view of Josie, Hanami, and SPYGOD.

"You do understand that this in no way acts as an abrogation of our... misgivings in regards to your recent actions," the Director of the Space Service says, shivering a little as he shakes hands with the wheelchair-bound man in the early light of the morning. 

"If you mean to say you're not sorry about locking me up for doing my job, I figured that," Straffer says, clasping the man's hand with his other, and looking him right up in the eyes: "And while I regret the loss of life and property damage that came from that decision? It was the right one. And I'd do it again."

"Yes, well..." the Director says, still shaking his hand: "There we are, I suppose. There we are."

"Blah blah !@#$ing blah," SPYGOD mutters from his place, over by the door of Straffer's hospital room: "You should have given him a goddamn medal, mother!@#$er."

"I beg your pardon?" the Director gasps, looking between him and Josie, who's been standing by the door this entire time.

"I can't entirely disagree, sir," the COMPANY Director says, her hands behind her back as she smiles, ever so slightly: "The medal, I mean."

"Well, I never," the man says, releasing Straffer's hand: "I realize that things may be a little... strained between our two organizations, but-"

"Sir, we cleaned up your mess," Hanami says: "Miami? The rot in the Atlantic? That was us."

"And if you mess up again, we'll be the ones who do it, again," Josie adds: "Provided we survive the experience."

"So you'll excuse us all if we're not all !@#$ing feeling the love right now," SPYGOD says.

"In other words, sir, we're all standing on shaky ground with one another," Straffer says, standing up from his chair -- weak legs or not: "But the planet's defenses come first. So in spite of what's gone before, and however we might feel about one another? We need to table that and go forward. Agreed?"

He looks to each person in turn -- even SPYGOD. Something about the steel in his eyes makes it impossible to disagree with him.

And so, however reluctantly, they do...

* * *


... what they're told, in regards to the "lesser people" their associates have been collecting in for the last couple weeks.

The Beehive is a massive, domed, concrete room -- one created in such a way that all sound within it is collected and amplified. Even the slightest of whispers sounds like a shout, and melds with all other noises within the center. The resulting buzz sounds like the endless, even droning of winged insects in their paper nests.

Hence its name.

The noise was bad enough when the place was being repaired -- patches being fixed in the cracked and broken roof, and then smoothed out perfectly. It became worse still when the crews came in to replace the ancient, Soviet-era computers and electronics with shining, new ones.

And now that they're bringing in the people, the noise is just awful.

They're weeping and afraid, the lot of them. Drugged out of their skulls on old, Russian pacification drugs, maybe, but still aware of their situation enough to be terrified.

Because no one who gets abducted, beaten, starved, stripped, and fitted with some weird box on the back of their skulls for a good reason.

The Odal grunts are being instructed to take the people off the vans, bring them down the hallways, past the black door, and then haul them to some position relative to the large dais in the center of the domed room. There's some kind of pattern being formed, but no one can really make it out because it's only visible from up high.

Not that anyone really wants to see it. Much like the weird things being written on the walls: words of power scrawled in ancient alphabets by the weird Nekronaut fellow, as he gambols around the Beehive -- face painted like a skull, hands brandishing long lengths of white chalk.

He seems to be the only one enjoying this. And it may be because he's the only one who will walk away clean...

* * *

"... from what can only be described as a massive scandal, unfolding here, this morning. 

"About twenty minutes ago, a live signal was broadcast into every major television network news around the world. Here in America, that consisted of ABC, NBC, CBS, CNN, and we here at FOX. 

"That signal appears to show former Secretary of Defense Wheeler. As you can see, he's reading from a statement, and appears to be doing so in a public location. We think that's the Holiday Inn in Evansville, Indiana. He appears to be groggy and very tired, and may have been drugged. He may have also been beaten, given the blood on his shirt and his appearance. 

"But what he's said so far is nothing short of astounding. He's claiming he was behind the attack on Toon Town. He hired the people to do it, made sure they were equipped with state-of-the-art arms and equipment, and arranged for their evacuation. Their orders were to destroy as much property, and kill as many Toons as possible.

"But he has just said that this was done to target missing Outlaw Reporter Randolph Scott. Their orders were to destroy his studio, and to kill both him and as many of his news team as possible. Obviously, they failed, but... wait, let's go live with this. Can we go live?

"'...Candidate is the one who asked me to do this for him. He and I both had an axe to grind against Randolph Scott for his reporting, and he thought that getting him out of the way would stop that. But then, he had an ace up his sleeve, too. The young lady who's been talking on his behalf, Jana Scott, has been brainwashed and forced to lie about her father's activities.

"'And that's just the tip of the iceberg-"

BANG! 

"What? What's happening. Oh my god, he's been shot. The former Secretary of Defense has been shot by... someone's fleeing. Not sure, but it looked like a security guard...

"Yes, we can confirm that Secretary Wheeler has been shot. People there are saying he was shot in the back of the head. 

"We're trying to raise our correspondent there. We can't get through at this time.

"My God. What a statement. If this is true, what does this mean for..."

* * *

"... tonight?" Karl asks as Helvete puts the final touches on his clothes.

"Absolutely nothing," the pale man says, making certain his tie is just right: "He was never going to become President. He was only ever there to be killed at a time of my choosing, in a manner that suits my needs. This merely hastens the timetable."

"So the team you've had following him...?"

"Not just yet," Helvete says, turning to look at Karl -- his black lips curled into a cruel smile: "Let us pluck as many feathers as we can from this cock before we cook it. He needs to give a few more speeches, in which he shall decry the racial situation in his country for the powderkeg it is. He must blame the Muslims, the Hispanics, and the Blacks..."

"Homosexuals?" Karl asks, following him into the next room.

"No, I don't think that will be necessary," Helvete says: "A man's sexual exploits harm no one. But one's race is as certain a sign of destiny as any. And when our white hope is killed by some mongrel, well..."

He smiles, and regards the others -- all pressed neat and clean, and ready to meet (and become) Gods.

"Let us just say our message will have much more urgency, shall we?" the pale man grins, waving to...

* * *

"... another damn storm of those black balls," Straffer explains, trying to fit himself into his old uniform as best as he can: "They need me in Neo York City as soon as possible."

"I'm coming with you," SPYGOD says, getting out of the hospital bed they've essentially turned into their bed.

"No," Straffer says, looking at him rather intently: "(REDACTED), I love you. And I know you want to help. But this is my fight, and my war. If I lean on you now, I won't ever stop..."

"And that'll !@#$# up your authority to no end," the superspy nods, sitting back down on the bed: "I see what you mean."

"Thanks," the newly-appointed Campaign Director of the Space Service says, smiling: "Besides, you got a weird menace to catch, too. Don't you?" 

"Don't !@#$ing remind me," SPYGOD sighs: "But yeah. And I wouldn't ask you for a shoulder for his sorry ass, either."

"Exactly," Straffer says: "But... I wouldn't say no to you helping me with these damn boots."

And SPYGOD smiles, and...

* * *

... the masses that have assembled to see their new gods-to-be off, into the next world, all cheer as one.

The angry and the impotent. The hideous and the broken. The hateful, the spiteful, the fearful. 

The doomed. 

They stand there in masses, making the Odal salute as, one by one, the luminaries that the group has gathered to this strange place, here in Moscow, walk down the long corridor from the entrance to the black door, and then into glory. 

They shout their compliance, their obedience. They beg to be remembered, to be given special powers. They claim they will wait on these beings hand and foot, and kill without hesitation at their slightest command. 

Their eyes are blank with fury and adulation. Their minds are gray slates, waiting to be written upon. 

Their souls are wastelands, waiting for some higher presence to fill them up. 

One by one, the objects of their utter affection are marched by them. Brave men and women, ready to be flung into the strange spaces between worlds where the old gods dwell, waiting for their children to come back into their good graces. 

Waiting for the world to have come back around to them. 

And as they walk by, one of them -- still chafing under the holographic camouflage that no one's managed to see, yet -- wonders at what point he can risk breaking away, contacting his superior, and putting an end to all of this.

Agent 78 could have done this at any point. But somehow it all seemed too risky. There was never no one around. Never a quiet moment for him to change and run. Never a convenient second to call in an air strike. 

Just the quick, certain march from mortality to godhood -- sweeping him up along with it and not letting him go, even for a second. 

And at some point -- maybe as they march him to his section of the dome, stand him against the wall, and have him prepare to read certain arcane words -- he thinks that, if he goes through with this, he'll be in a better position to stop it. 

But as soon as the ceremony begins, thirty seconds to midnight, and the white noise machine blares, and he begins to read his words, and the poor people of Moscow begin to die, he realizes that it's just too damn late for any of that now. 

Too damn late to...

Sunday: 5/1/16

"... be serious," Tombo says, looking down at Moscow as something goes horribly wrong, right around Midnight, their time.

"What's up?" the newest member of the All Dead Rock Band asks.

"I think someone just did something really !@#$ing stupid down there," the redhead says, grabbing her cloak off the wall and getting ready to go.

"Girl, you got a filthy mouth," he tsks, getting ready to go shred his purple guitar again.

"Just wait 'till I find out who just wrecked reality, again," she says, a cloud of glowing dragonflies surrounding her as she leaves this part of the Afterlife: "They're gonna hear some really choice ones..."

* * *

"... have come to rejoin us," Seranu announces to the others. 

None of them seem very pleased at this notion. In fact, some of them look rather scared. 

"Sister-wife Kanaan," the lord of the Olympians says, looking to his wife: "Does this augur well?"

She looks up at him. Everyone gasps. 

Her needles have been plunged into her eyes, and not by her own hand.

And then...

* * *

... every psychic talent in and around the Moscow area screams and falls down, unable to get the sound of a long, loud horn out of their head. 

... the massive cemeteries and burial grounds for hundreds of miles around the great city shiver and shake, as their occupants find themselves awake once again.

... fate and destiny become frayed at the edges, and those who had no luck find it in abundance, while those who had coasted too long on good fortune suddenly land on their backsides. 

 * * *

.. and in a domed, concrete room soaked in the blood of the undermen, the Aesir open their eyes in their new bodies, raise their weapons, and shout -- loud and long. 

And their followers cry out to be led.

(SPYGOD is listening to Paper Gods (Duran Duran) and having an Aesir Mead) 

Monday, February 22, 2016

TechnOlympos: 2/15/16 - 2/21/16

"See the face of fear / Running scared in the valley below"

(Moloch and Myron, together again)

(Art by Dean Stahl)

* * *
28
* * *



Monday: 2/15/44

It's 6:01 AM when he gets the call that the Time Chamber has asked for him, yet again. And that just throws off his entire morning, right there.

Normally, he'd lounge in bed with his wife and their husband (and whoever else may have spent the night) until it was time to go into work. Maybe catch up on the hyperstory his writing group is assembling over on their Writeworld server, or actually read something for a change. Maybe even try his hand at cooking breakfast if he's feeling particularly confident, or brave.

(How did he have two such excellent cooks for dads and yet not be able to boil water? He has no idea.)

But if that silver cylinder is calling his name, then he really has no time to dawdle or delay. It means that he has to go do something drastic, somewhere in the past.

And that's either because someone is monkeying with it, or because they've found yet another hole in the records that needs to be filled with his kind of bullets.

And finessed with his kind of perspective. 

So he dresses up for full temporal combat. Puts on his tachyon suit. Gets his special equipment that decays as soon as it's out of physical contact for more than ten seconds.

And makes arrangements to get the gun from the COMPANY lockup -- the one only he is even allowed to look at, let alone carry into the field.

(He's the only AGENT with a body that can handle all the changes it puts a person through.)

On his way out, he kisses everyone goodbye. They have the good sense to not ask about what he'll be doing today. He has the decency to not tell them.

And then he's in his hovercar, flying from his Neo York City penthouse to the Heptagon with the sirens on, and no time to stop for a damn coffee.

* * *
  
TIMEFILE
BGDST19466-A-C-02/16/+2016-EST:14:36-14:45

"...oh, my son, my son," the old man says, shaking his mostly-bald head as he grips his boy's hands tight.

"I'm sorry, father," the man says, tears running down his face as he begs his father's forgiveness in the back of his campaign bus: "I don't know what else to say. I'm beaten. I can't win this-"

"You can, and you will," his elderly father insists, shaking with determined rage: "The angels have spoken to me, Rafael. They have assured me that you will win this. You must win this."

"But... the polls."

"To the devil with the polls!" the old man all but shouts, and the look in his eyes is fierce and terrible: "To the devil with delegates and votes! All the speeches and contests in the world will not save it from damnation.

"Only you can do that, my son. Only you."

The man looks at his father, sets his jaw, and nods: "I know that, papa. I do. I will lead this nation. I will be its leader. But... maybe it won't be this time-"

The slap comes so fast he doesn't even realize his father's hand isn't in his until it's landed on his fat face. The pain is intense, but not as painful as the look the old man's giving him, right now.

"Do not doubt the word of the Lord your God, Rafael," his father insists, pointing that finger in his son's face: "I told you the angels spoke to me. And they did not say it would be next time. They did not even say it would be this election. They said you would be this country's leader now."

"Then... how? What must I do?"

His father looks at his son, and takes both his hands in his. There's a look of total serenity about him, now.

And he tells his son that what he thought was a severe setback, a couple weeks ago, was actually the means by which he will lead this country out of the darkness, and back into the light.

And such is the way that he tells it that, by the time he's done talking, his son no longer has any doubts or worries.

He just has to figure out the best way to make this happen...

* * *

"Well then," the AGENT says, looking at the holographic timestamp on the timethread their temporal sensitives pulled out of the stream, late last night, and then handing the crystal matrix back across the desk: "That's troubling to say the least."

"Given everything that happened afterwards..." his burly, grey-haired supervisor says as she takes it, leaving the point open as she always does.

"28 years ago," he muses, looking out the spartan office's window at a blindingly-white Washington DC -- all memorials, museums, and agencies: "I feel like I was just there, for some weird reason."

"But you can't be sure," Rikki chuckles.

"No," he quickly assures her: "The wipes are still holding. I have no idea what I did, there. And I never will."

"You just get the feeling?"

He nods: "Yes. More and more, these days."

"Maybe you should stop before you fade."

"Fading's for losers," he chuckles, tipping her a wink: "But I promise I'll lose its number if it gets awkward."

"Ha-!@#$ing-ha," Rikki snorts.

"Boss. Language," he playfully scolds.

"Whatever," she says, handing him the key to the vault: "Get your weapon and go deal with the issue, sport."

"You got it," he says, snapping a smart salute and then heading out before the beefy, old clone can give him any more words of wisdom.

Or curse at him again. 

* * *

"... yeah, well, you know how it is," he says to his parents as he marches down the long hall to the vault -- very aware that every step is another biometric scan, and yet another chance for the defenses to turn him into smoked pate: "'Duty now for the future.' Can't say more than that.

"Yes, I'll be careful," he sighs: "Gosh, you two sound like old mother hens. You're worse than our husband, and he's worse than...

"Yes, I know," he chuckles: "I'll stay out of your way. Both of you.

"Love you both. Bye."

"Dang," he says, hanging up and showing his key to the armored guards at the end of the hallway. They nod and let him put it in the vault, at which point there's humming and sliding. 

At which point the doors open, just a little, and the large, silver box he needed floats out to meet him. 

He puts his hand on the box. It glows, and then opens. 

Inside is a small, silver gun with alien contours. It registers his presence and begins to breathe. 

He takes HÇ«fuð out of its case, and quickly stores it before it starts to do that weird thing to his eyes. 

Then he lets the box slide back into the vault, leaves the key with the guard for safekeeping, and heads off to the Time Chamber. 

* * *

"What is that racket?" he says as he enters the room, addressing the giant, silver cylinder at its core: "It sounds like two guitars trying to make out in slow motion."

"Some classic rock," the Time Chamber insists: "'Bullet the Blue Sky' from The Joshua Tree. It seemed appropriate."

"The band's called the Joshua Tree?" 

"Philistine," the silver cylinder says, clearly aghast: "It's U2. How do you not know who U2 were?"

"Whatever," the AGENT says: "You know I'm more into New Wave than postpunk. And I think my dad shot their lead singer."

"Which one?"

"Their first one, I suspect."

"Which dad?" 

"That would be telling," he replies, drolly, and does one last check of everything as the Time Chamber goes on about temporal traps, things and people to be careful of, and a conjectural timeframe for his actions -- which may or may not actually be his doing, depending on what he finds there. 

"...one more thing," the cylinder says: "The last time you were there, you left behind a piece of evidence. A bullet that couldn't have possibly made the shot it did."

"Really?" the AGENT says: "Am I supposed to know about this?"

"No. But I'm telling you anyway because I want you to be more careful. The more of a footprint you leave, the harder it becomes for me to clean up after you. And we don't need them coming looking for us too early."

"Got it," the man says, nodding: "No exotic ordinance. No trick shots. No weirdness. I'll get in, do what needs doing, and make it look bog standard, even if it means disrupting the time flow."

The silver cylinder sighs, taking his point, and then begins to unfold itself before him.

The surface of spacetime crackles and booms, opening up into a hole that is best described in sexual terms. He smiles and keeps that filth to himself, as he always takes perverse pleasure in doing, and steps on back to 2016

He has no idea what he'll have to do there, as usual, except that it'll most likely be either stopping an assassination, or causing one.

But until he gets to where he needs to be, and sees the situation, he's as much in the dark as anyone...


Tuesday: 2/16/16

"Alright, then," Myron says, adjusting his headlamp and making a few more adjustments in the large bank of controls that squats between himself and the giant, bronze minotaur with fire in his eyes and belly: "We've got a containment field, now."

"Meaning?" Moloch demands, his voice a loud, bass noise that rattles every bone in Myron's hands, and echoes off the walls of this steel cavern.

"Meaning that, when we turn on the transporter, it won't suck in everything around it," Myron explains, as patiently as he can: "Because if it does, not only will we expend too much energy maintaining the portal, but there's a better chance that things won't be reassembled correctly on the other end."

"Which is bad."

"Which is very bad," Myron nods, glad the monster he's turning into a machine gets it: "You want to get home? We need a field."

"How much longer?"

"What, you haven't been waiting long enough?" Myron asks, trying to smile.

But then he sees the bull's eyes narrow, just so much. And he smiles a little larger, holds up his hands, and says "Just a small joke. We're doing good, okay? Just a while longer."

And, for what seems like the tenth time in two days, the metal monster who almost killed him a few years back avoids losing itself to another rage, and lets him keep working.

And Myron counts that as a victory, and takes advantage of every second it buys him. 

* * *

In retrospect, Myron should have known that the creature was at least partially responsible for the Village. 

After all, there were only so many B.A.S.E.C.A.M.P.s to go around. And as their creation -- and very existence -- was pretty damn dangerous to reality, it was much more likely that BOWLER had merely found a way to get to the latest one, rather than creating a whole new one. 

And it was much more likely that, rather than creating the Village all by himself in a timely manner, the man they'd known as Number 42 had enlisted some very special help on this side of things. Help from the sort of being that could move within, and reshape, metal structures.

But Moloch had learned from his lengthy isolation on this world; he was no longer confined to metal. He now possessed the ability to move within all forms or matter, and reshape their atomic structure to meet his desires.

And he also had learned to move within people, to a degree -- to be able to see inside their minds, and create things based on their needs, wants, or ideas...

Myron was, as could be expected, very skeptical of this part of the monster's tale. It didn't help that he'd spent the entirety of it with his gun in his mouth, ready to blow his own brains out rather than assist the bronze minotaur if he thought the beast was going to betray him.

But Moloch was rather convincing. When Myron challenged him by daring him to make a Dead Kennedy's t-shirt with Jello Biafra on the front -- things he doubted Moloch even knew about -- the beast merely reached out to Myron's head, and held his massive hand there for a time.

Then, he reached down to some inert matter, did something, and handed him the shirt in question.

One change of clothes later, and a few ground rules established, Myron began telling the creature exactly what they needed to have in order to create a new portal to Earth. And the creature began to create it to his specifications, so that they could build it, piece by piece.

As they worked, Myron had no illusions. He knew the beast would kill him if he got a chance, or gave it too much too soon. He also knew it would kill him as soon as they got back to Earth, and try to double-cross him on his condition of bringing the other prisoners back with them.

But he had hope that it might stall, just long enough. After all, as he'd since learned, Moloch had been the one to insist that BOWLER bring Myron through. He'd known he was the only one who could get him out of here, once the British spy organization's own techs had finally admitted to failure.

So they have an agreement, and an arrangement. And maybe it'll hold just long enough for Myron to figure a way to either disable or kill the beast, or at least strand him here again -- and for good, this time.

A curious and dangerous arrangement, but one that seems to be working. 

So far. 

* * *

"There we go," Myron says, tapping the circuits he just had Moloch generate: "That's good. I think we're getting closer."

"Hours, now?"

"Days, more like," Myron sighs: "I need some sleep."

"Sleep is not necessary-"

"It is for me," Myron says, looking up at the monster he's turning into a machine: "Maybe you've been out of your body for so long you've forgotten."

The monster's flames burn a little brighter, just then: "What... how...?"

"Oh yeah," Myron says, going back to work on a delicate piece of the process: "We figured out who you were, Tariq. It took a little digging, when all was said and done. But after we won against the Imago, and the authorities started digging out Dubai? Well..."

Myron shrugs. 

The monster is silent for a time, and then nods: "Body not important. Body a box. Open now. Soul is free."

"Well, that's one way to put it."

"Doubt?"

"Not really, no," Myron replies, stopping work: "I've met some other beings who aren't tied down to one form. AIs. Ghosts. Folks like that."

"Not gods."

"Well, I know some of them, too," Myron sighs: "But I gotta tell you, Tariq-"

"Moloch," the bronze minotaur insists. 

"Sorry. Moloch. When we get back to Earth, you might want to watch it with the god talk."

"Why?"

"Well, I haven't been able to get a lot of information, things being what they are. But a certain nasty !@#$ I was shacked up with for a while was able to get word back from BOWLER, now and again. And apparently, while I was here, a group of real gods have shown up on Earth."

"Real," Moloch snorts, small gouts of fire spurting from his flaring nostrils.

"Well, the Supergods, anyway. You probably don't remember them, being so young."

"Moloch is eternal."

"Yeah, yeah, and so was David Bowie."

"Who?'

Myron sighs: "Anyway, when we get back? If you want to talk about being a god, you'll have some company. But you might want to tread lightly."

For some reason, Moloch finds that funny enough to laugh for a full minute.

And every second makes Myron feel that much worse about needing some sleep...

Wednesday: 2/17/16

The Red Queen wakes up, yet again, and is mildly surprised to not have been assaulted in her sleep by her new friends. 

She expected to be beaten. Terrorized, at least. Maybe tied up and assaulted, or at least threatened with it.

But instead, these Liberators the Red Queen has fallen in with have taken her someplace quiet and safe. Fed her. Clothed her. 

And largely just left her alone. 

She's been all by herself, here in this room near the abandoned pyramid. She can't hear anything outside the doors. 

(She's wondering if that was intentional or not.)

She realizes this is an indoctrination technique, too. They'll probably come for her in a few hours, or maybe another day, and want to shower her with love and affection. 

Or maybe that's when the beating and pain will begin...

Either way, she's ready for them. Either way she'll put up a token struggle and ask questions that aren't the best ones to ask. She'll act like she's hesitant, rather than resistant, leading them to figure that the hesitation is all about her trying to deny what she already knows is true.

And then, when they're good and ready, they'll take her out of here and introduce her to whoever is orchestrating this blight on the White City.

And the Red Queen will drag that person's sorry ass back to Satanoth, drop him or her at his feet, and demand her god-body back. 

She just has to wait a little longer, that's all. 

Just waiting, here in the dark...

* * *

"How did we not know about this?" The head of Arrow Security says, looking over the legal paperwork his three lawyers have just dropped onto his desk: "I can't believe this is happening!"

"I'm afraid it is, Mr. Stone," the oldest of them says, closing her briefcase back up: "The irregularities were bad enough, before. But with this latest issue with the lock-up, we've got investigations, subpoenas... you name it."

"This is all... that Governor," the man says, thumping his hands down on what little free space remains on his desk: "This is payback. Worse than that! This is a distraction."

"It is what it is," the youngest of them opines: "And what it is, is a mess."

"We can get you out of it, of course," the one who hasn't said anything thus far offers: "This is just a distraction. It'll be hot news for a week or two, and then they'll find out something new about Flint, or somewhere else. And by the time we get you clear of this, well, it'll be back page stuff."

"But if there's anything you don't want on the front page?" the older lawyers says: "I'd really look into making it disappear."

"Oh, I can do that," Mr. Stone says, nodding as he looks it all over: "I'm very well-practiced at that."

And in the adjoining room, his longtime assistant, Gary -- who knows what all that stuff is -- suddenly realizes his time here is coming to an end.

And he decides, then and there, what he has to do in order to survive...

* * *

 "... you see, from the outset, I realized that ABWEHR was doomed," Helvete says, smoking another one of his oppressive, dark cigarettes: "Just the few of us, living in the Ice Palace? Waiting for the drugs we'd taken to run their course, and then we'd all get old and collapse unto useless senility? Or waiting for your so-called heroes to hunt us down, one at a time?"

"So you made us," Jana says, slicing him a perfect piece of his favorite pie as Karl carefully makes his coffee.

"Yes, but not as replacements for us," the pale-skinned man says, his red eyes narrowing at her perspicacity: "Shock troops, yes. Entertainment, definitely. Food, upon occasion. But not to take the place of us, no."

"So what was the plan, then?" a badly-burned Karl asks, waiting for the right second to pour the frothy milk: "Recruitment?"

"We tried that. It did not work," the pyrokinetic says: "Those tedious Arabs. The South Africans. None of them had our fire. Our spirit. Our dedication-"

"Your perfect, German genes," Jana says, handing him a plate with his pie on it: "Correct?"

"That too, yes," he says, taking a small fork from her and wondering if he should jab her with it, or keep speaking. 

"So you made pills that contained your memories and personality, and ensured the right person took them after you died?" Karl says, pouring the milk at last.

"Not right away. I had the pills made years in advance, after my other plan began to bear fruit. One last update was made the week before we learned that your SPYGOD was going to attack the Ice Palace. And then, I had my people wait for a time, and pick the right person, once he appeared."

"That's immortality of a sort, I guess," Karl says.

"A temporary measure," Helvete says: "A means to extend one's work past one's death. Not the true immortality promised by the term."

"So what, then?" Jana asks, watching as their master tries Karl's coffee, and, thankfully, does not throw it in his face this time. 

"So, we do our Nazi ideals the honor of trading metaphor for reality," the pale man says, finding his dessert and coffee quite good: "We become the gods we claimed to be."

The twins look at one another, and then back at him: "That's impossible" they say in eerie unison. 

"Is it?" Helvete asks: "Perhaps, except that we have already seen that men can become gods, have we not? And that Gods can become men?"

The twins remain puzzled, so he continues: "Your so-called Supergods, these Olympians? They have been banished to mortal flesh, only to return. And they have taken humans into themselves, becoming an amalgamation of the two."

"So Seranu wasn't talking complete !@#$ on the O'Reilly Factor?" Karl asks Jana.

"That would be the first time that show's contents couldn't be used to grow mushrooms, then," Jana replies to Karl. 

He smiles at that, and sips his coffee: "So, it is simply a matter of finding out how one might enter such a communion with such a being, and join with him or her. A way to rewrite reality, if you will, and change the nature of your destiny."

"And you think you can actually do this?" Karl asks, raising a singed eyebrow: "You and your army of disgraced superheroes, leather boys, and school dropouts?"

Helvete looks at him, and smiles.

And then proceeds -- just before igniting his impudent slave's fingertips -- to explain how...

Thursday: 2/18/16

 "So, what's the plan?" Gosheven asks, now that everyone's had a good time to look around the table -- here in this super-secret room, somewhere in the bowels of the Flier -- and get to know each other. 

"The plan?" SPYGOD asks, looking at the pudgy, Native American metamorph as though he just asked the dopiest question on Earth.

"Yeah," the guy says, shrugging: "Don't you always have a plan when you get us all together like this?"

"Do I?"

"That's the way I've heard it," Shining Guardsman says, looking around the table.

"Usually true," Swiftfoot adds in, nodding and looking at his fingernails.

"I wouldn't know," Free Fire says, shrugging in his best approximation of the gesture, which comes across somewhat strange as he's had little practice with it. 

"I would," Mister Freedom says, but, as usual, doesn't say what he knows. He just smiles, which gives a few of his new teammates the creeps.

"Well, who says I don't?" SPYGOD asks, getting up and putting his hands on the table: "We got intel. We've been reviewing it. We've got sources. We've been checking up on them. We've got patterns and probabilities. We've got someone running them through an algorithm to make a prediction."

"So... we're essentially waiting for the !@#$er to strike again," Gosheven says.

"And then we go after him?" Peg asks, looking rather uncomfortable with the idea: "The longer we wait-"

"The more likely he'll be up to business as usual, and people will get !@#$ing hurt and killed," SPYGOD says, sitting back down again: "Which is damn true. It also sucks. But it's the only way to keep even worse things from happening."

"I don't like that kind of math," Peg says: "The COMPANY's supposed to be about stopping that."

"I've forgotten more about that COMPANY than you've ever !@#$ing known," SPYGOD insists, pointing a finger: "And don't even get me started on math, lady. You don't get to !@#$ing judge until you've been in a war."

She has nothing to say about that, and decides to remain silent. For now.

"But in the meantime, we have some opportunities," he says, leaning forward: "We got carte blanche to do what we want, when we want. We got total secrecy. Total immunity.

"And I say it's time we !@#$ing used it."

"Now hold up," Peg says, holding up a hand: "This was not part of the deal-"

She would say more, but suddenly she falls over in a slump -- eyes open, mouth shut.

"Um, what?" Shining Guardsman says, looking between her and SPYGOD.

"Trade !@#$ing secrets," SPYGOD says, looking at Swiftfoot, who may or may not have just gotten out of his chair, moved across the table to Peg's seat, and gotten back before anyone could even blink: "How much?"

"One dose, (REDACTED)," he says, putting the empty vial on the table: "Just like you said."

"Alright then," SPYGOD says, looking at Gosheven, who sighs, nods, and sprouts a whole other person off of himself. It's Peg -- right down to her clothing and DNA.

"Um, what are we doing?" Shining Guardsman asks.

"Changing the rules of the game," Mister Freedom says, smiling as he gets up.

"We've got 48 hours before she wakes up," SPYGOD explains: "That gives us two whole days to think, to plan, and to move if necessary."

"Are we doing this because we suspect she's our mole?" Free Fire asks, looking at the real, apparently comatose Peg.

"It's possible," SPYGOD says: "But really? I just feel like being in !@#$ing charge of my own damn team, you know?"

"Yeah," Shining Guardsman says, nodding slowly: "I think I completely understand that concern after the !@#$ I went through."

"Exactly," SPYGOD says, clapping him on the back: "The President's gone !@#$ing nuts. So Josie's got her hands tied at the Executive level, which is why that shameful !@#$ show with Freedom Force went down the way it did. And all she can say is 'sorry' and make !@#$ing apologies.

"Well, not in my COMPANY, folks," he says, pressing a secret button under the table. A panel slides out of the top of it, displaying a cooler full of chilled beer and some party favors: "This !@#$ we're dealing with is too explosive to let Mr. Interim President remote control it. We are not having our hands tied. We are not having a !@#$ing babysitter.

"We are going to go deal with this !@#$ my way, so it gets dealt with, and stays dealt with.

"All clear?" he asks, getting a beer out and popping the cap off with a bottle opener he makes at the top side of his thumb.

The nods and 'yes'es are quick, and seem genuine. So he smiles, takes a swig, and adds: "Plus... I may have promised someone we're going to !@#$ing help him, off the books..."

* * *

"Wait a minute," the large man says, shaking his head and holding up a hand: "Are you sure... you know what you're asking me?"

"I do, Mr. Secretary," the Candidate says, putting his hands together and leaning forward -- his immense head seeming to take up most of the space in the man's solarium.

"Not anymore," former Secretary of State Paul C. Wheeler grouses: "Those bastards saw to that."

"That's right. And it would have been kept quiet, too, if the bastards in the Press hadn't gone public with classified information."

"I haven't forgotten that," the man says, patting his chest at the thought of it.

"No, I bet you haven't," he says: "But you know, they all followed the lead of one person. And that's Randolph Scott."

"Yes," the disgraced politician says, a very dark look crossing his face just then.

"And if you took him out of the picture, well... maybe the others would forget about you?"

"How?" the man says, looking very interested all of a sudden.

"Well, first you do me this one little favor," the Candidate says: "And then, when that's done? I'll see to it that certain unimpeachable witnesses come forward to say that he made up all that stuff about you."

"You can trust them?"

"Oh, they'll do whatever we need," the froglike man says, smiling: "And once you're in the clear, again? We can see about other forms of thanks."

"Such as...?"

"Such as giving you your job back in my administration," the Candidate says, extending a hand: "But first we need a certain thing to happen, inside a certain other thing."

"Well then," the man says, nodding and taking the man's hand: "You pay their fee, and I'll see to it this thing happens."

And as they shake hands and smile, the Candidate can't help but think of a line by Yeats...

* * *

"There really is no dignified way to come into the hospital when the baby's on the way, hon," Mark Clutch tells Martha as they floor it for West Suburban -- the Owl Car zooming over the buildings and trees as they really ignore the stoplights.

"Never... knew that," Martha gasps, doing her best to block out the pain: "Had Thomas... at the Owl Cave..."

"Really?"

"Yes..." she grunts, remembering to breathe: "Circumstances... dad thought... best to do it... at home..."

"We had Kaitlyn at... well, hell, you were there," he says, smiling as he remembers.

"I know..." she sighs: "Remember everything..."

He smiles at that, and then looks at her: "I love you, Martha."

"Love... you..." Martha says.

And she screams loud enough to rattle the windows as their child decides to remind her that this is not a tender moment...

Friday: 2/19/16

Randolph leans down to kiss Velma on the hand. He'd rather do it on her face or forehead, but she's bandaged and wired from her neck on up, and the last time he got too close every alarm in her room went off.

On the way out of the room, he runs his hands over the large bank of paper flowers her friends have sent her. They won't let real flowers in here, for one medically-sound reason or another, but the paper kind is okay.

And then he's down the hall -- nodding to the two armored Toons by her door -- and into the TV lounge. It's strangely deserted at this time of morning, which is both good and bad for him.

He looks at the television, which some asshole left on FOX News. They're going on about how a certain candidate's ratings are going through the room -- especially after calling Cruz a "!@#$y" at a speech -- and how said "!@#$y" is announcing a special speech on Sunday, down in Calexico, California, in which he might be throwing in the towel.

"We should be so damn lucky," Randolph sighs, doing the electoral math in his head. Sadly, he knows where most of the man's votes will be going -- and it isn't Kasich.

Then the burner phone in his front left pocket rings. He's been saving that one for a special someone, who he's been expecting a call from.

"Hey you," he says, a second after getting out of sight of any cameras and windows: "I was wondering when you might call...

"Okay, it's on? Are you sure you don't want me there to watch?

"Well, yes. But she's not going anywhere. And she'd !@#$ing kill me if I missed this. You know that.

"Ah, the doctors are !@#$ing useless. She could come out of it today, tomorrow, next week, next year. Brains are damn weird and brain doctors are...

"Well, you know how much faith I have in them after my own traumatic experience. I hear they waffled so much they could have opened up a damn Waffle House.

"What, you've never heard of them? Okay, next time you're stateside? We'll go. They're somewhere between an IHOP and a Denny's, only with fewer items and better service, respectively.

"Okay, it's a.... well, it's what it is. Yeah.

"Well, if you want to call it a date, I won't say no. I just don't want your fiance coming after me with one of his ridiculous guns.

"Oh? Oh! Well okay then. We'll call it a date.

"Yes, I'm sure. Velma would kill me if I didn't...

"Oh? You didn't hear? Well, yes. Mom and baby are fine. Mark's a little frazzled, but he's been through this before.

"A boy. Joseph Clutch.

"Yeah, well, they're not into cigars. I'll have to send balloons or something when I have time.

"Well, yeah. The one thing we never seem to have...

"Alright then. You take care, man. And good luck.

"Bye."

With that, he hangs up, drops the phone on the ground, and stamps it so hard it all but collapses under his boot.

As he dumps the smooshed burner into the nearest trash can, he catches sight of the Candidate going on about how Toons bring violence wherever they go. And something about how the piece of !@#$ says it makes him wonder what he knows.

And how much uglier this is going to get between now and November...

* * *

"Wait, are we actually having this conversation, Senator?" the Interim President asks, staring at the phone like it just flipped him the bird.

"Yes, I know what I said, sir," he goes on, shaking his head: "I was there at the time..."

He rolls his eyes, and looks around the Oval Office. It's deserted, except for him. Even his aides have stopped coming in, these days.

(Something about hygiene, they say. Well to heck with them. He doesn't have time to bathe, now.)

"Yes, I meant every word," Quayle says, spinning around in his soiled, leather swivel chair: "I asked Congress for it. They said no. Or at least they never said yes...

"Wait, wait. Are you actually telling me..."

Quayle's eyes get as large as dinner plates. He gulps, quite loudly.

"Now look. Just look here... Senator. Senator!

"Sir, you cannot be serious. You cannot be. No. No."

He listens some more. He goes pale as a sheet.

"Now sir. Ted. Come on now. You have to think about this. Think about what he said. Think about what we saw. 

"Yes, I know what I said. But I also know what I saw, Senator. And so do you. You were there, dammit! You urinated in your damn pants!"

Silence, and then he closes his eyes: "No. No no. Senator, this your President speaking. Yes, your President. Do not do this.

"Then I ask you as a man, sir. A man with a wife and children and a lot of people I care about. Do not do this. Please.

"Well then fine. You do this? We're not responsible for you. I'll call the damn head of the Secret Service and tell them to let you twist in the wind. You hear me?

"Hello? Hello?"

There's no answer. The call's been terminated on the other end.

"Oh Jesus," the Interim President says, getting up from his chair and wondering who all he needs to call.

Check that -- he knows who he needs to call, first and foremost. He just doesn't want to.

But he knows he has no choice...

* * *

"Are you sure you're ready, sir?" the Indonesian woman says, still looking uncertain in her new uniform.

"You don't have to call me sir, anymore, Yanti," Straffer says, trying to smile in an elevator full of armed Space Service guards. 

"What should I call you, then?"

"George would be nice."

"It's a bit too... familiar."

He smiles and chuckles, looking around at everyone. No one seems amused but him.

The ride down is fairly quick. Then they leave as one body, heading out of the Space Elevator, and towards a waiting UN transport -- floating an inch above the executive landing pad.

"Just take good care of it, okay?" he tells his former assistant -- now the Director of the Space Elevator: "It's a weird thing, but it's wonderful. And it's been wonderful to have rehabilitated it."

"I will," she says, shaking his hand before the guards put every manacle known to man, machine, and god onto him.

She stays and watches as they lock Straffer down, one inch at a time. If he finds the procedure painful, demeaning, or frightening, he does not show it.

About halfway through the ordeal, a transport takes off -- full of Martian refugees, bound for Mexicali. He watches it go, as best as he can, and maybe tears up a little at the sight of it. 

At last, it's done. He's encased in metal bands from head to toe, with only his his face showing.

They place further devices onto it. Life support monitors, motion detectors, and a very large bomb.

Then they carefully strap him onto an upright gurney, tilt it back down, and wheel him towards the transport. But before they do, she snaps off one final, proper salute -- making sure he can see it.

George Straffer smiles at her, then. And then they've wheeled him aboard.

And then it takes off, maybe a little quicker than absolutely necessary.

Director Yanti Hatta watches until it disappears over the horizon. And then, her duty to him done, turns to take full control of her new assignment.

She's just not at all happy with what it's cost her. 

Saturday: 2/20/16

"Hey," someone says to the Red Queen as she wakes up -- the room finally lit with sunshine from outside.

It's a woman's voice. She knows that much. And it takes every ounce of willpower to not leap out of her current position and wrap her hands around her neck.

She pretends to wake up by degrees. Opens and closes her eyes. Acts groggy. Half-sits up, and then rubs her eyes and mouth as if getting bad dreams out.

"Sorry to keep you waiting for so long," the woman says: "We've been kind of busy, the last few days. You know how that goes, right?"

"Not really," the Red Queen lies: "I was scared. I thought you'd forgotten me."

"You could have left at any time," the woman says, her eyes glittering in dark sockets as she indicates the door: "It was unlocked the whole time."

"I didn't check..." she says, shrugging. She looks stupid, now. Maybe a little mad at herself.

(She really knew all along. She just didn't want to appear to be too smart.)

"Well, that's okay," the woman says, rising up and looking down at her: "We promised you answers and left you waiting. That was bad on us. But you sat here, waiting, and trusted us. And that's good on you.

"So, answers. I got them. But I need to know something, and this is really important."

"What's that?"

"How fucking badly do you want to know the truth, girl?" Loreli asks: "How far will you go for an answer?"

"What do you mean?" the Red Queen asks, suddenly very spooked by how this crazy-eyed woman said the word '!@#$ing'

(Because she's heard it said like that before, what seems a whole lifetime ago. And it didn't end very well, thanks to the people who were saying it like that...)

"I mean that I have an army of people out there who will do anything for answers. Anything at all," the woman says, kneeling down before her and putting her hands on her new friend's shoulders: "They will die for them if needed. And that's what it might take to get these Gods to see us."

Red Queen looks into the woman's eyes. She sees madness there. Horror and terror.

The same kinds of darkness she saw in the eyes of that fake SPYGOD and the President's daughter, back in that house in Bangkok.

Something makes her shiver, and for a moment she thinks she's blown cover. But then the woman smiles at her, winks, and says "I think that's a yes, honey?"

She just nods, and lets Loreli tell her all about their movement.

And this time the shivers are real.

* * *

"Honey, you have to snap out of it," Florence's mother is saying over the phone: "I know this is a bad thing. And I know you feel bad about it. But you can't hide in your room forever."

"I know, mom," the heroine says, trying not to cry. And she keeps it up the rest of the phone call, during which her mother keeps telling her the wrong things, over and over again.

Why won't she understand? Why won't she just listen?

She's been violated. Humiliated, degraded, exposed.

Her most private self has been shared with the world against her will.

The pictures those animals took of her are now in circulation on the internet, and countless people are, at this moment, staring at her nakedness.

Raping her with their eyes.

And the one person she thought would at least understand -- at least empathize -- is telling her to treat it like she just broke her leg or something.

Can she be taken seriously, now? Will she ever get her self back from the world?

She doesn't know. She feels awful. Betrayed.

And for the love of God she doesn't know what to do, now...

* * *

"... but the people of Iowa and New Hampshire and South Carolina have spoken, and I really respect their decision," the grey-haired politician says, looking around the room as though for some kind of lifeline: "So tonight I am suspending my campaign."

There are gasps. Someone says "no." He smiles weakly and says "Yeah, yeah," before continuing on, but the newscaster doesn't give him the chance.

"That leaves five men standing in the Republican race," the blonde FOX News anchor says, her smile like a brace of knives: "With news that Cruz might concede tomorrow, having fallen behind Ben Carson in the total delegate count. Meanwhile, Sanders and Webb continue to run neck and neck, as leftist voters seem unable to decide between an avowed Socialist, and the darling of the so-called moderate wing..."

The AGENT snorts: "Heck of a way to talk about the next President," he says, turning the television off and leaning back on the bed.

The hotel room is small, dark, and not scheduled to be booked for the next three days. That makes it ideal for his purposes -- it'll give him some extra time in case things go weirder than usual, tomorrow.

He calls up the data the Time Chamber is sending him from 2044 on his holographic interface. The main cord of accepted history shows ahead of him, with something akin to a weird knot warping its features, tomorrow afternoon.

It's that knot that's brought him here, to Calexico -- evidence that something strange and atemporal happened here, on that date.

It might be nothing, of course. It's possible that his being here is what caused the knot. And so, in his time -- the future, from this point in time -- he comes back to investigate and causes the incident he's investigating in the first place.

(Temporal engineers call it a Closed Loop, maybe with a side of Bootstrap Paradox, and get all excited. He calls it a Snipe Hunt, and hates them with a passion.)

But better the simple explanation than the complicated one.

Because if it is complicated, then something else is going on here. Some weird fracture in the timeline is being committed by one or more parties.

And given how important what happens tomorrow is, there's no way in heck he's going to take the chance of things not happening the terrible way they're supposed to, as opposed to the cataclysmic ways that they might. 

Ways that might seriously change the history of Earth, or even wipe it out altogether.

So he checks the timeline -- over and over and over again. He sees who was supposed to be here, and who did what, and when. He plays the transcripts over and over until he has them committed to memory.

And then, when that's done, he meditates the rest of the night, there in the dark.

Waiting for the world as it isn't to show him how to change it back to what it should be...

Sunday: 2/21/16

Calexico, California. 6 in the morning.

A large bandstand has been constructed, within sight of the border. It's done up in red, white, and blue, with the Cruz for President logos everywhere.

Also, there are crosses -- tall, plain, and stark white. Many of them adorn the stage, and many more have been set up around the audience pen.

It's like they've been constructed to keep things in. Or maybe keep things out...

By some trick of location, the bandstand appears to be directly in a line of sight with the towering White City, itself, across the border in Mexicali.

And by some trick of the heat, even this early in the morning, the city of the Supergods seems to be less than a mile away...

* * *


"... from rejoining the portal on the other side," Myron says over the intercom: "I've got a reasonably good assurance that this should work. I'm not sure what kind of situation we'll be going into, but if it gets us all back to Earth, I don't see how this couldn't be an improvement."

He smiles, looking at Moloch, and then at the huge device they've spent the last few days putting together. It looks a lot like the old platform they used to get back and forth from the Treehouse, but with better safety features, this time.

(And a few other precautions Myron built in, just to be sure.)

"And I meant what I said, earlier. I don't hold any grudges on this. I don't care if you helped me or tried to kill me. We've all been used, here. It's time we got past that.

"So, if you want to come along? Come on down. We'll hold off on doing more than test it for a few hours, but I want to stress that, after the first go, we might not get another.

"So go to the second subfloor, look for the tube marked ORBIT, and step inside. We'll be waiting..."

* * *

... for the anointed son to come on down and say his say.

The makeshift lot fills up quickly. Cars from all over the American Southwest park so tight that it's a wonder anyone can get out of them. And they're soon joined by others, caravaning in from all over the nation.

Especially Texas.

Before long the penned-in audience area is full to bursting, and others have to stand beyond the line of crosses. Entrepreneurs sell t-shirts, snacks, and lemonade.

(Extra portajohns are eventually secured, to much cheering.)

The security is being handled by an open-carry organization, and while they stand there looking scary it's quickly apparent they're next to useless. Spot checks aren't routine, and they trust when they should verify.

The media show up predictably late, and do their best to navigate to the front of the crowd to capture what comes next. They've been told only that this is "super important," and "will change everything."

Some of them have their own opinions on what that means, and either keep it to themselves or make it the centerpiece of their early reports.

But all of them expect some kind of show...

* * *

... his face, just yet.

The AGENT is there, of course -- just quite some distance away. Watching the show through glasses that pull the world from far away up close in three-dimensions, so he can walk through the crowds unseen.

He can't be seen, either. His devices see to that.

He can see others who wish to not be seen, though.

Off to the far, far left -- just under three miles away -- is Wilbur P. Queensbush. Age 52. USMC sniper, and sought-after mercenary.

And today he's been hired to take out the man that everyone's come here to see.

He's been parked under some scrub since early this morning, wrapped around the best .50 caliber sniper rifle money can't buy in this timeframe. And he's waiting for the optimum moment to use it. 

He has no idea who really paid him, any more than he knows who ultimately set these wheels into motion. He really doesn't care.

He gets his money, he shoots, he kills, and then he melts into the haze of history.

(Dead in three days -- shot in the face by a jealous competitor. Such is life.)

If time goes according to plan, today, Wilbur succeeds in his plan. Rafael Edward "Ted" Cruz dies before he can say all of what he'd come here to say.

But not before a fanatic wearing a vest of C4, there in the front row, does something much more distracting, and dangerous...

* * *

".... we repeat, these prisoners are dangerous. Do not attempt to arrest. Shoot on sight..." the loudspeaker is blaring. But no one is listening, now.

They're screaming.

"You think you are good?" The Penitent asks the Arrow guard he's slowly choking with his fist on the cold, concrete floor: "You think God will forgive your sins? Not without pain, brother. And here it is..."

"Hey man," one of the others says, poking his abnormally-pale, white-haired head around the corridor: "Come on. We ain't got time for that !@#$ right now."

"There's always time for repentance!" the madman screams, clearly not wanting to be disturbed at this moment.

(Not when he's got his fist all the way down the guard's throat, up to the elbow...)

"Yeah, well, we got wheels up in five," someone else says, stomping on by. She's wearing a black leather business suit with a white, silk tie, and carrying a long, golden staff with a crackling, orange crystal skull at its crown.

"Are you sure we gotta bring him?" the albino black man who looked around the corner said, chasing after her: "He's trouble. Killed two guards, three inmates. No rules-"

"My employer was very insistent," Morgue Anna says, narrowing her eyes at him: "All the top security prisoners. Even him. Even you."

"Well, it ain't that I ain't grateful," Yellow Snow says, thumbing the gun he took off the guard he dealt with, back there: "I just hope your employer got a better plan than the last !@#$er I signed on with."

"Oh, he does," she smiles...

* * *

... as the candidate's tourbus pulls up, all campaign logos and URLs. 

The crowd goes wild. The bus honks in reply. 

Inside, in the back, the man of the hour kneels with his father. They've been praying since the bus left the hotel, this morning. 

So many miles, so many words.

All doubts are gone now. All considerations tossed aside. 

The father had convinced the son. The son is ready to fulfill his destiny. 

And nothing will surely stop them now...

* * *

"...that you're all here, I think?" Myron says, looking around the room, which has been partially lit by everyone's flashlights.

"This is everyone, yeah," someone says from the middle of the crowd: "The others... well..."

"They know it's okay, right?" Myron says, looking at Moloch -- who's clearly impatient to begin. 

"I don't !@#$in' think so," the large Irishman Myron tussled with the other week confides: "And neither do they. But here we all are, eh?"

"Yes," Myron says, gesturing to the platform: "So here's how it works. We all get on. Moloch powers us up. He gets in at the right moment, and we go back to BOWLER's headquarters' basement, or wherever the portal is operating from."

"And then what?" someone else asks.

"And then... we either make the best deal in the world, or kick some serious ass and get some massive payback," Myron says, looking each person in the eyes as he does: "Make no mistake, people. We left there prisoners. We're coming back as kings. 

"All of us."

"I'm so glad you feel that way, Myron," someone says from the darkness as she walks out of it.

It's the Chess Master, re-appeared at last.

And she's not alone, either...

* * *

... as he walks up the steps. His wife is there with him, along with his father. 

He waves to the crowd as he gets closer to the podium. His steps are confident and full. He looks alive and alert.

He may or may not have been crying. They might have been tears of rapture and joy. 

And as he gets behind the wooden podium, gripping the sides tightly, he lets the fury of the crowd exalt his spirit.

He smiles -- doe-eyed and vacuous, with his father and wife on either side of him -- and waits for the cheering to die down before he begins...

* * *

... to worry.

Straffer should have been let out of these ridiculous metal straps, by now. It's been a day or so.

How long do they plan to keep him here, all alone in this dungeon of a superslam?

He thought they might be taking him to Neo York City, but they diverted course from west to east, and headed for Africa, instead.

His GPS was offline, at the time. But he knew where they were taking him as soon as they landed.

The Korhogo facility, in Cote d'Ivorie. The place where the Terre Unifee kept its supervillains, until it was time to collect them to make another "hero," somewhere in its structure.

(The place that imploded, some time ago, after one of their more infamous inmates realized he was a god...)

The guards took him from the transport to an elevator, and from that elevator to a room on the ground floor.

And then they just left him, and turned the lights off as they went.

Is that their solution, then? To just leave him here to rot, here in this place that still stinks of the men and women who died here?

If so, they're making a terrible mistake...

* * *

"... the other week," the man says, holding onto the podium as if he might be blown away by the love of the crowd. Their adoration.

"I was challenged, as you all saw. The devil himself came to our debate, after I had spoken of his works, here on Earth. And he did not respond in a way that I expected him to.

"That was my fault, and I repent of it. I was proud and headstrong. I was too confident in my own self, and not confident in God's hand in things.

"And when he challenged me, this devil in the white city..." he says, loving the fact that some of his audience actually get the reference: "He was able to call my bluff. He threatened to bring down the world if I forced him to make amends for what he had done.

"And because I was not walking with the Lord, that night. Well, you saw me. I hesitated. I became afraid.

"And all I could say was..."

* * *

"... you have to be !@#$ing kidding me," Myron says, looking at Hook and Crook as they stand behind the Chess Master: "All this time? You were all in this together, all this time?"

"Yes," the two of them say -- one a split second after the other -- and hold their eponymous weapons up.

"Well, that explains a lot," he says, looking at the Chess Master: "So what now? You want to come along? I'm sure we can use the help-"

"No," the older woman says, raising an eyebrow: "Now, you and Number One get away from the platform. Then, Hook and Crook create the energy necessary to take us all home."

"And you strand us here," Myron says, gesturing to all the people who'd come down here: "I don't think so, somehow-"

"Then consider this," the older woman says: "I've heard your pathetic little speech. You think you'll all just go over there and tell them to lick your boots? Just you and a metal monster who'll betray you the second he gets home?"

There's doubt, then, and Moloch just chuckles -- deep, fiery bass.

"Now we, on the other hand. We get over there, and we can force them to do as we wish. We can reestablish connection. We can have you brought back.

"You'll just have to decide who you trust more..."

* * *

"... the Lord, or the Devil," their chosen candidate goes on: "The spirit or the flesh. The word or our flawed ability to understand.

"I didn't understand, then. Not truly. I thought I knew my place in history, and the world. But I was wrong. I was blind.

"But now, thank God, I can see!" he shouts. And the crowd shouts with him.

"Now I understand that I have a destiny. I have a mission. It goes beyond higher office, beyond elections, beyond anything we could understand.

"And now that I understand this, I understand that I don't have time to wait for another debate, another primary, or even another election.

"I have to do this now..."

* * *

... that the AGENT is realizing that something is going very, very wrong.

His tachyon detectors are going off the scale. His incursion alarms are sounding.

He looks at the thread, again. The knot is becoming even thicker, now.

More convoluted than he'd counted on.

Something else is going on, here. Someone else is coming through.

And for some weird reason, they're coming through right on top of him...

* * *

"... because we know he's listening, up there in that tower," the crowd's hero says, pointing to the White City behind him: "And let's tell this Seranu, as I tell him, that we are not afraid of him.

"Let's tell him that we are a mighty nation, with the one, true god on our side!"

"Let's tell him that we are not afraid of death, or fire, or pain, for the Lord our God is with us!"

"And let's tell him, as I should have done before, that-"

* * *

- the sniper spits out a mouthful of chaw, slowly exhales, and pulls the trigger -

as

- the man in the front row pulls the cord on his vest, and shouts that God is Great - 

as

- the AGENT screams in fear and surprise as his body warps into an unfamiliar shape -

and then..

* * *

In the locust wind comes a rattle and hum
Jacob wrestled the angel
And the angel was overcome
You plant a demon seed
You raise a flower of fire
See them burning crosses
See the flames higher and higher


(SPYGOD is listening to Bullet the Blue Sky (U2, before someone shot Bono) and having a Blazing World)