The Curious Case of the Missing Witness
by SmallBurnyThing
Some days you get a lucky, a kind word gets you a password, which lets you copy a database, which fetches a rather large amount on the black market. Other days, well, someone else goes for the same mark as you and everything goes wrong. The emergence of meta-humans in the world was never going to affect that too much. Oh, and I'm a naíve fool, did I mention that?
You see, my life was one of the best I could have, coding by daylight and occasionally skimming large sums money off of those who could afford it. But sometimes; sometimes things don't go quite according to plan.
This is one of those times.
A Comic Retcon tale that gets a little dark towards the end.
Authors Note: All recognisable characters are copyright to their respective publishing houses (There's two of them).
Milandrovich Tower Entrance
Friday 9:17 PM - My5t|qu3
The guard took one look at me and compared it with the picture held on his data slate. I smiled wryly at the pair of them. “One hell of a time for the Lexus to break down, I'll tell you that.” He nodded, fingers playing across the screen.
He smiled as the computerised list revealed my lovely smiling face. “Of course Mr. Langley, now if you'll just head into the elevator the party is on the penthouse floor. We'd have someone accompany you, but...”
“I understand.” I interrupted him with the air of someone who'd heard it all before. “It would compromise the perimeter or something, yes? Don't worry; I'm sure I can operate an elevator by myself.” Strolling past him and giving a calm nod to the security camera I didn't even bother suppressing the smile that spread across my face. This was far too easy.
Marcus Langley, one of the senior officers in the up and coming company led by Lex Luthor had recently been forced to cancel this little upper class charity and snobbery event due to some problem somewhere that required his immediate attention. Compromising the security was a joke: One phone call posing as a member of Langley's staff, asking about his system identifier in order to check that it had been cancelled and another to the organisers, reactivating his attendance and upload a new photo as he'd 'recently had a haircut'. The software's designers hadn't believed it necessary to show the previous photo before letting you change it, so the person on the other end had no idea of the switch.
One second hand suit later and I was past the doorman, being free to peddle my wares at an invite only high-profile social event; posing as the guest of the same person I'd used to get in. That I wasn't on the invite list was irrelevant; I'd passed the security on the doors, and was happily showing my face to the security cameras whilst the goons had other things to worry about that faceless yes-man number twelve. No one would look at the tapes anyway, since beneath the people who were already here's dignity and the 'Master Thief' was far more interested in ripping off small stores and her fellow crooks than high society.
I, on the other hand, preferred the cool air-conditioned rooms, with their ten dollar appetisers and people who were more than willing to splash out fifty grand for a friend of an acquaintance’s business venture. And when that mysteriously failed, well, there wouldn't be anything to connect the black hat hacker and occasional fraudster My5t|qu3 to the carefully siphoned off funds. They wouldn't even realise they'd been had.
The elevator climbed slowly up to the 47th floor and I smiled, checked the flashcard in my pocket for the succinct details of one Andrew Sullivan, an identity I'd created last week, and went to socialise with my betters. Or at least enjoy the artwork whilst I waited for my mark to become intoxicated enough that my proposal would sound so much better.
~
One of the disadvantages of being conscious of micro-expressions and body language, other then being unable to watch political broadcasts, is a hyper-awareness of other people's discomfort. Now, when one of lead security guards shared a look with his boss everyone's posture shifted slightly. The words that clattered through their radio were the last thing I wanted to hear in that situation: “Ground floor team, report in. Do you copy?”
Guests bickered and baulked as I brushed my way past them to the stairs, scenarios running through my mind. Taking out the ground floor team made it unlikely that they'd risk the stairs and loose the element of surprise. Therefore, when I heard the elevators opening with a din, I sprinted, leaped the banister and dropped half a story as gunshots went off behind me. I didn't see the back end of the assault rifle as it slammed into my face.
~
“Don't worry about your security guards, they're quite dead.” A slightly amused voice said as I came back to the world. “And so is the police line, your cellphones, emergency call buttons and all that other high-tech wireless gadgetry stuff. So that means we have all this time to our lovely littler selves, no interruptions. Except...” He paused as I twitched, vice like fingers digging into each wrists as warmth spread down the side of my cheek. “What the hell is that?”
“L-L-Let us go.” Someone pleaded. “Just take whatever you want and go.”
“Wasn't talking to you.” The apparent leader of the criminals said absently, pointing what my addled mind labelled as 'high tech assault rifle' in the speakers direction. His trench coat flared as something about the weapon tried to worm itself into my subconscious.
“Got a runner here, boss.” One of the voices holding my arms back rumbled. Their leader smiled.
“Genius.” He exclaimed as he skipped over. “Didn't think any of you had it in you. Nearly got past you, didn't he?” The grunt said nothing as he stopped. Cold clammy gloves grabbed my head and forced me to look straight up. Balls of black glass lit from behind by a ball lightning occupied both the man's eye sockets. “So, serum or bullet.” He said, dropping me as he pulled a sheet of paper
“Meta-human.” I managed to mumble. He stopped and looked at me.
“How did you? Ohhh.” A look of dawning realisation crossed his face. “You mean little old me? It was the eyes, wasn't it? Always give me away, make people run from me in terror.” His fist grabbed the lapels of my suit. “That really used to freak me out, but I got over it. But do you know what I can do?”
“I don't think he's on the list, boss. Want me to put a bullet in his head?” Grunt number two said softly, lowering the pair's IQ further as I cycled through what he'd said and I'd seen.
“Noo,” The boss said slowly. “I want him to answer me first, otherwise I wouldn't have asked, would I?” He snarled and stared at me, mumbling something about 'humans'.
“Electro-magnetic suppressor.” I got out through the pain in my jaw. “You block electronic communications.” Was my second guess. All trace of amusement fell from his face and it hardened into an emotionless grimace. I chuckled as I recognised it. The true face of a sociopath. It looked better in the mirror.
“Who are you?” He asked, as I dropped my mask in turn.
“Mystique.” I said, hoping he'd recognise the alias. His eyebrows rose, trench-coat swirled and an icy needle was rammed into my neck.
“No hard feelings.” He said calmly as the ice travelled down my body and I felt myself being tossed to the side. “Right.” He yelled as my vision went blurry. “Round up the others and find me a bottle. We have one less dose that before and I'm gonna let chance have a hand in things.”
~
Everything itched. Like a burning fire that crawled up my skin as I tried to shake the crust off my eyebrows and the taste bile from my mouth. Then I opened my eyes to see the back part of somebodies head and there really was bile in my head. One glance at the rest of the room and I slammed myself against the elevator door, hammering the call button almost as fast as my heart. Twitching corpses were way beyond me. They made me think of zombies, of the weird T-virus kind. I had no idea if there was anyone still alive in there, and I wasn't going to hang around long enough to find out. Even if it took me a minute to peel myself off the back of the elevator long enough to press the ground floor button.
~
Next thing I know, I'm staring at my reflection in the mirrored surface, one shaking hand tracing the bluish mass that made up the right hand side of my face. The bone underneath it moved as I tried to find a painful part. Frantically, I pushed at it, desperately trying to work out how bad the damage was. Gods, it felt as though my entire face was deforming. My breathing shallowed, and everything took on a blue tint, midnight coloured shards erupting around the wound.
“Oh shit.” I swore, trying to push the damn things back in again. The bloodshot parts of my eye seeming to pulse green. “This can't be happening.” I repeated over and over again as the lift descended, closing my eyes so I wouldn't have to look at anything. They... they gave me a shot, I remembered that. It was possible, more than that, that I'd been injected with a hallucinogenic. Or something. It certainly hadn't killed me like the others. I clung to the fantasy all the way down, until the doors slid open behind me. One last look behind me just showed that the bruise had somehow vanished, and then I was out on the streets, sprinting from the building, back to my car. Back to some semblance of sanity.
So what if driving wasn't the best idea, or that I flinched at every siren that went passed. I did stop, once or twice, when it got too much and I started crying. I just couldn't afford it right then. Couldn't afford to feel, or think. How long did you think it would be till the cops were after me, until I'd have to change states again? Ten hours, at most? The time it would take for the management to trundle in in the morning and put out a photo of me?
It took three attempts to open the door of my messy apartment, and I ran a nervous inventory of everything I needed to dump. The hard disks were first, they were always first, the most incriminating evidence you can think off. It's so easy though, just pull off the side panel, unplug, and dump them in the boot. Luckily my windows drive just had games on it. No evidence there, right? And it's not too unusual to only have a single eighty-gig hard drive in this day and age, isn't it? Then there was the laptop, the second laptop, the disks, the USB sticks, the external hard drives. The netbook. I couldn't do anything about the wardrobe, but it wasn't to incriminating. Switched out the UPS uniform though, put that in the trunk.
And I was done. Just enough time to clean my wounds, add a fake beard or something; change my appearance just enough that I wouldn't be recognised from a brief glance at the news. Then, then I could run straight for the state border, and skim a new identity off the ones on my drives.
I'd already thrown the top half of the suit on the bed as I made it into the bathroom, I don't know why it took looking in the mirror for me to notice it. I didn't even realise until I'd stared at where the cut had been for a few minutes that I didn't need to shave for the fake beard. Which was odd. My hand fell lower. No chest hair either. Or arm hair. I stared at the rest of my body. Maybe the drugs hadn't worn off. That had to be it. My skin still felt rough enough.
It didn't take long for my eyes to drop downward as I slowly unbuttoned the top of my pants. The usual wisp of pubic hair was missing, so I slid my boxers down. Let's just say that I was glad that toilet was both near and had been left up, and that I relieved myself before I looked in that direction again. Even if that just convinced me of the reality of it. After all, it doesn't normally just gush like that. And well, wiping it was a good idea. But the feelings were just so alien, so unreal. I stared at the not-quite me in the mirror as my visions blurred and I started tasting salt on my lips.
I managed to make it through the shower. Got to the bed and broke down crying.
Milandrovich Tower - Penthouse Suite
Saturday 05:13 AM
“Why the fuck did we only get a call two hours ago for this?” The stern women in the FBI cap said with disgust as she stepped out the elevator, one hand pressed against her nose, half gagging at the stench of filth and decaying flesh. The extra passenger went unnoticed as her invisible form dropped from the ceiling behind them. “It was bad enough when it was just down-town being hit. If we didn't notice this one as well, how many others do you think we missed?”
“I don't know.” The police captain said with a grimace. “Something royally screwed with the security system. One of their techs opened it up for us when we got here, it records sending several alarms but no one received any of them on our end, they also lost the feeds from almost every camera in the place. The only reason we know even about it is because of the survivor that called this in.” The agent's head snapped in his direction, pony tail flying as he raised his hands. “She's downstairs, getting counselling. I'll let you know when it's safe to talk to her.”
“Do you know why she's still alive?” The FBI agent asked quickly. “Or why they didn't take her like the others that have gone missing?”
The local cop snorted. “Yeah, she's a meta-human. Can open locks by touching them. Claims she's never done it before, and the look on her face when she sprung the handcuffs makes me inclined to believe her. She says they left her for dead like everyone else.”
“That's not a good sign.” The agent continued, nervously running a hand down her ponytail before putting the cap back on. “If the four abductions also involves meta-humans, we're in for a world of hurt, especially if one of them gains major abilities.”
“Erm, excuse me, sir, ma’am?” One of the CSI's asked nervously as they approached, looking a little green around the edges. “I, err, didn't know that the FBI were involved in this case, but we haven't cleared some of the back areas yet and you really don't want to go there until we do.” His eyes flickered questioningly to the inspector.
“Agent Rhian Medina, metahuman task force.” The Captain introduced her. “I invited her in, since she was in the area.” He looked at her with a trace of suspicion. Their invisible friend stayed to the side as she performed her own analysis of the crime scene.
“That makes sense. I guess you're here to see the bodies then.” The coroner stated nervously, gesturing at the closest body bag marked with a red tag. “I really hope you haven't had breakfast yet.”
The FBI agent snorted. “I haven't gone to bed yet, but gunshot wounds are gunshot...” The zipper slid down the black bag, revealing a mass of tortured flesh, complete with strange spikes of bone all contorted in a sickening grimace. Everything was coated in some sort of decaying mucus. The chief inspector lost the contents of his stomach into a bag, and no one had the attention left to notice the sudden gasp from thin-air or the few bright green dots that appeared on its body as samples were taken.
“Cause of death, as far as I can tell, is complete mutation into something that's either torn itself apart or that no longer has a heart or lungs, we won't know till the autopsy.” The coroner said, covering his mouth with a free hand. “There are forty-eight like this, the rest all died from gunshot wounds. Security from combat wounds, guests close range executions. As much as I'd like to say this sort of thing never happens, it looks like a hit. Can I close this up now?” The captain nodded.
“Let's... go outside for bit.” Rhian said, leading him slowly away.
“Ring, scan again for cause of death.” Jade whispered over the corpse, nervously eyeing the rest of the room as she tried to see anyone who could bump into her.
“Attempted activation of non-existent meta-gene through some external source, probably viral and non-contagious with ninety-eight percent accuracy.” The voice resounded inside her head.
“And you worked that out how exactly?” The green lantern asked with amazement.
“Survivor is a confirmed to have an active meta-gene complex, if weak, this bodies DNA sample did not indicate activation, but secondary plasmids did, suggesting a viral or bacterial attempt at activation. Chemical, mystical or psychological activation is considered unlikely to cause the mutations exhibited by the corpse. If it was contagious most people who have come into contact with the corpses would be dead already. In addition, forty-nine is exceedingly close to fifty, indicating that the virus was likely administered and distributed by man, though this is merely speculation, with an eighty-percent chance of.” The voice broke off. “Negative. There appears to be another survivor, chance of this being a man-made activation attempt is currently less than E minus three percent below certain due to the neatness of doses administered.”
“What do you mean, another survivor?” Jade asked quickly as she looked around for clues that others might have missed.
“Police radio just reported that one of the technicians have retrieved footage of a guest leaving the floor after the attack. The stress levels in his voice suggested the event was anomalous. The survivor is likely to be in danger if the theory behind the abductions is correct.” The ring informed her as subtly as it could.
“Great.” Jade breathed. “And I thought we had enough problems. They're meeting up on the ground floor, correct?”
“Yes, and I must protest at the breaching of their privacy due...” The ring continued as its green lantern surveyed the lack of available elevators and decided to take the expedient route: straight through a shot out window.
“Announcing myself got us a large 'piss off' earlier tonight, remember?” Jade muttered as they shot down to the security office.
~
“It's just the two of us.” Rhian said as the technician held the door open behind them.
“Oh. Right.” He said nervously, hurrying over to the console. “I still can't work out how they hacked the cameras, but I have pinned it down to type. Only the newer, wireless, ones were affected, so they must have had some sort of hack on them or jammer because we don't have a single shot of the attackers.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “Why they thought wireless cameras was a good idea is beyond me.”
“You mentioned something about a survivor.” The agent asked with a sigh. The techie's eyes flickered to his boss, who nodded.
“We missed him to start with because he looks just like one of the executed guests.” The keyboard clacked, switching to the main camera on the screen, rewinding the tapes. “Here, he gets up, looks around and... legs it.” He switched again. “Now this bit freaks me out every time.” The grainy figure on the security feed stared at his own image, black fragments of something suddenly emerging out the side of his face before falling back against the door. “There's no audio, so we can't hear what he's saying.” The tech said with a tremor in his voice. “And there.” He suddenly cried as a ripple suddenly passed along the man's skin, leaving unblemished paleness in its wake.
“What did we just see exactly?” Rhian asked as she leant back.
“I think.” The tech said nervously. “And this is only a wild guess, but I think we just saw whatever they tried to use on those people upstairs work.” He looked up from his desk at the pair of them. “It's just a theory of mine, but two in fifty is long odds for the meta-gene and that didn't look like something a human could survive. I mean, I swear I saw his fingers rearrange themselves when I enhanced it.”
“Assuming you're correct,” the police captain said calmly, “Why would anyone you try to convert people into meta-humans if you're going to do something with them afterwards?”
“I agree, this looks more like a terrorist act than some sort of meta-human creation drive.” Rhian said with a pause. “Do we know who this guy is, or why he hasn't contacted us yet?” The tech shook his head and opened up the booking software.
“Another abduction would be my guess.” The captain muttered under his breath as the technician trawled through the registration software for the event.
“Or he's passed out in a car somewhere. God, I hope he's not road kill.” The FBI agent said with some feeling.
“Found it.” The technician interrupted with a smile, “Didn't think he'd be one of the big shots, but here he is. A Marcus Langley, of LexCorp no less.”
“No it's not.” The police captain said in a deadpan tone. “I met Mr Langley at a police fund raiser two weeks ago. He's black and built like a boxer, not a white skinny nerd. No offence.” He said quickly to the latino FBI agent. She just ignored him.
“So, is he involved in this?” She asked instead. “Or is he just another crook caught in the middle?”
“Either way, he's our only lead.” The captain said despondently.
“Ring.” Jade whispered, looking over their shoulder. “Can you locate the man in that photograph?”
“He is within an estimated three-hundred and fifty kilometre radius of this building, based on local speed limits.” The ring replied, drowning out the conversation in the background. “More precise location unavailable.”
“Why?” Jade asked with an exasperated sigh.
“Picture is a confirmed match to Michel Dawson through the FBI's database. No other accessible records exist for the last twelve years as he appears to have been in hiding, so any inference is likely to be invalid because of insufficient data.” Jade managed a snort as the FBI agent nodded.
“And I want to run the victims' names through one of our databases.” Agent Rhian said with a sigh. “I think I know what links them but I want to be sure.” And with that, all three concerned parties left, the Green Lantern deciding to leave the footwork with the people paid to do it.
22 Fir Lane
9 AM - My5t|qu3
“We've suspended our normal program to bring you more updates about the Milandrovich story.” The radio clicked on with a buzz of static, making me moan with disgust as I rolled onto my back. “For those of you who have just joined us, an estimated seventy people were killed last night in a terrorist attack. Almost an hour ago now, several news companies received footage in an email from a nameless terrorist group. The video contained footage of various people being... I'm not quite sure how to describe it, but it's on our website and not for the squeamish. Now we cut straight to the police station where Captain Johnson is about to read a statement.”
“Please, please, I'm sure you've got a lot of questions, but if you could just be quiet and listen to what I have to say...” The abating static lessened somewhat and I opened my eyes to the play of light against the ceiling, the memory of last night coming back in blurry snippets. “Thank you. First of all, I will confirm that video distributed to CNN and the other televised networks is; to our best knowledge genuine and we will be working with those organisations to try and trace them to their source. At this time, the exact cause of death of the majority of the victims is unknown, and we have called upon our colleagues in the FBI to help bring these felons to justice.
“We also believe that there is a link between this attack and the reported abductions across the city. As of yet we don't know why these people were taken and have received no demands for their safe return. I am asking all citizens to be on their guard for suspicious behaviour. We have also released an image of a man believe to be a victim of the attack but who has not come forward for questioning. He's a Caucasian male, in his mid-thirties with short black hair and grey eyes who may be going by the aliases of Andrew Sullivan, Michael Dawson or Mystique.” I sat bolt upright, something on my chest bounced. “We implore him, if he's listening to this, to phone us immediately, and for anyone to see him to report his location immediately...”
“Fuck!” I yelled, and gasped. My eyes travelled inescapably downward as the rest of the broadcast turned to static in my ears. My jaw moved soundlessly as the events of last night came flooding back with interest. Rolling onto the floor I started dry heaving with a passion, flaming red hair slinking in front of my face.
“It wasn't a hallucinogenic.” Was the only thing I could think of, leaning back against the bed. Gods, I even sounded like a twenty-something you'd meet in a bar. How surreal is that, being attracted to your own voice. More importantly, how the hell was I supposed to blend in when my skin was blue?
Not a pale blue or an electric blue, but a full on twilight blue, with the blemishes and variations to match. Then there was the obsidian scales that ran along the top of my arms, down my sides and err, other regions. At least I hope they were scales, because they felt suspiciously like bone and that would just be really weird. Taking a few, deep breaths, I managed to calm myself down, watching the more prominent scales sink into the surface of my skin as I did. Time to see what the damage was like.
The girl in the mirror was me. She was also wearing a practised look of disbelief. That's in addition to the blue skin, change of sexual organ and flaming red hair that tickles the top of my shoulders. The eyes settled it though. Take a human eyes, turn into the brightest green cats eyes you have ever seen on deviantart, and then paint the white bit a pale emerald just to finish it off. I looked like a poster girl for computer graphics, with the whole red, green and blue thing going on. Though a poster girl would have bigger breasts. Not that I'm complaining, them being small would have made me a lot more inconspicuous if I wasn't blue!
“Woah.” Was the only response I could make at the wave of pale colour that flashed across my skin. Knowing that I didn't look human was one thing, but I hadn't really connected it to the whole super-powered meta-human thing until that moment. I tried picturing one of the girlfriends I'd had back at uni, as a reference for the skin colour. There is one thing creepier than waking up as a blue skinned member of the opposite sex and that's feeling parts of your skull fragment and start moving around. The small areas of skin I'd been able to change snapped back to blue as my concentration wavered.
Sighing, I took a quick mental inventory. My former face was on the news and my current one wasn't any less conspicuous. It wouldn't take long for either my neighbours or my landlord to sell me out to the police, if they hadn't already. That meant that I couldn't afford to stay here any longer, especially as it was the only way they'd be able to link my new appearance with my old one. And that meant clothing. Lots of it.
I'd just gotten to the wardrobe when the buzzer on the door went off, freezing me in place. It went of twice more. “Are you in there?” My landlord yelled through the door. “I just want to make sure you're okay.” He yelled out. I still didn't move as my eyes found the bloody tux from last night. I have never been so glad that the curtains were closed. “Okay, I'm coming in.” I heard keys jangle as I leapt for the jacket, aiming to pull it and me inside the wardrobe. The blood tingled against my palm.
And that was how the landlord found me, standing there in shock from feeling an extra three inches being added to my height and everything becoming a little more rigid. I folded the clothes and covered my crotch in one smooth motion.
“S-Sorry.” The landlord blurted out once his eyes had returned to his sockets.
“You just woke me.” I said nervously, in my old, male, voice. “Is there anything wrong?”
“No.” He said with a slight stutter. “Just checking that you were alright. Is that a suit?”
“Yeah,” I said, looking down at it. “I have an interview later today. With a software company.” I added thoughtfully.
“I'll just leave you to it then.” He said, making a hasty retreat and staring at my face. He might have well have put a neon sign above his head saying 'I think you're a criminal.'
The door slammed shut, I dropped my modesty aid and raised both eyebrows. Three infantile words: Still no penis. Or facial hair. Or body hair, if we're counting that. But hey, the clothes fit, I wasn't blue and had the face a person of interest, even disguised by a fake beard. What more could I want? Oh, right, let me get a pen...
Police Headquarters
11:23 AM
“Alright. Thank you.” The police captain said spoke into his mobile, rubbing one hand across his brow. “Just do it. Better safe than sorry.” He put the phone down with a sigh before throwing a pencil across the room. The door, of course, chose to open at that moment.
“Bad news?” Rhian asked with a frown as she stepped into the office.
“Seventy one confirmed dead, the press at the door, corporations panicking, someone posting a sick video of them dying over the internet and now my coroner is telling me that the bodies are unidentifiable and that he’s sending them on to the CDC.” He snarled. “Also, our other survivor cleaned his bloody flat out before turning into mist and vanishing. We've got an APB out on his car but I don't think we stand a chance of finding it unless he makes a mistake.” He buried his head in his hands. “The van seen around the time of the kidnappings was found torched to the frame in an alley and preliminary ballistics suggests that the weapons used weren't AK's but we have no idea where they came from. Oh, and the email account was set up and used from an internet cafe. In what sort of fucked up world is our only suspect a professional fraudster with a degree from MIT and possible comic book powers we know nothing about?” He asked somewhat pleadingly. Rhian frowned and looked away.
“It gets worse.” She said slowly. “Those four abductees? The only potential meta-humans we know of in the city. We're also on our own for at least a week, my task force is overstretched looking into confirmed emergences, and the serious crimes department claim that this is our ballpark and that they'd just get in the way.”
“Great.” The captain said. “We should have taken that Green Lantern character's help when she volunteered it.”
“When was Jade here?” The agent's brows furrowed. “You never told me about that.”
“The scene of the second kidnapping. Showed up out the blue. I told her to piss off because procedure states that we don't just take peoples help in a disappearance case because they happen to be in the city. But there's no fucking procedure for this sort of shit.” He finished, breathing heavily and drawing stares from the rest of the offices. “Fuck I need some sleep. At least tell me that the FBI have some way of contacting her if we need her help?”
The agent snorted. “I don't know and if I did I couldn't tell you. Frankly, we're a new unit and everything is so compartmentalised...” Her ringtone split the air and she frowned slightly, checking the caller ID. “It's encrypted, I'd better take this.” She said, flipping the phone.
“Fine.” The captain said, struggling out from behind his desk. “I'm going to go and get some sleep, I can't think like this. Use my office if you want.”
“All right, everything's secure on my end.” Rhian said as the door closed. A snort came back in reply.
“Yeah right. We're on a wireless connection on a planet with someone who can crack closed networks in ten minutes, secure is a relative term.” Rhian sighed at the slightly edgy male voice.
“Who is this exactly?” She asked.
“Derilious, I mean Jhon Wakazawi, I was looking through CNN and you mentioned Mystique? If you've got a lead on her, well, it's big. We've been looking for her for years and the priorities just gone up with... err.” He paused, before ram-rodding straight over Rhian's reply. “I guess I can tell you, it's technically your database after all, or at least we think it was her, seeing as how Darkholme posted a fix for the exploit she used and well, Mystique and Darkholme, doesn't take genius to work out the connection there and...
“What did he do exactly?” Rhian half yelled down the phone.
“Oh, copied the meta-human database we're farming off of hospital tests.” He said as though it were commonplace knowledge. “We only found out about it two days ago which is kind of embarrassing since we were trying to secure it against whoever's working for the green lantern and some human comes along and steals it anyway.”
“Jesus.” Rhian breathed. “Just how good is he?”
“Good enough that my boss curses the day NSA failed to hire her and that she's welcome in pretty much every criminal darknet we know about. And are you sure she's male because I'd have sworn she sounded female when she posts. But then Darkholme always seemed male and that's why nobody seriously connected the two. Unless you proscribed to the...”
“You're rambling.” She said, stifling a yawn.
“I know, it's a character flaw. I have trouble with people and it's why I sit behind a desk all day and I'm going to shut up now. Who do you think Mystique is again?”
Rhian shook her head. “According to the survivor, Michael Dawson claimed to be Mystique when the group’s leader asked who he was. It's a tenuous link, but all we've got. He's thirty-five years old, graduated from MIT with honours in a Master’s degree in computer science. His parents had died in a car crash two years before, saddling him with an impressive debt for the tuition when life insurance failed to pay out. He disappeared four months later when the revenue service starting investigating how he'd manage to clear his debts without filling in a tax form. The file lists him as being exceedingly pleasant with a preference for his own company. He also had a conviction for breaking into the network at his old private school, back when the internet was a novelty. It was probably easier for him to crack something and not get caught than get a job with a conviction hanging over his head, the whole hiring hackers had finished by then and they were starting to be treated like security risks. The other twelve years of his life are a complete mystery”
“MIT honours, shit. That explains a lot.” The voice on the other end of the phone saide with a sigh. “I'll need access to whatever you've got, we really need to take this guy in.”
“Sure,” Rian's eyes strayed across the room, stifling a yawn. “And I'll need your help tracing any moves he makes across the network and identifying why he was at that party and criminal groups he might be involved with. I really hope you don't expect me to send the data through a secure terminal.”
“Err....” The voice on the other end drawled. “E-mail should work.” He said after a nervous pause. “You got a pen? I'll give you my NSA address.”
“Fine, but I'm getting some sleep after this.” The agent said, wondering just where she was going to crash for the day.
Outercity Suburbs
12:15 PM - Mystique
WEP is the plague of security legislators everywhere but a godsend for people without a land line. Took me ten minutes to break the key, popped an SSH tunnel to one of my Swiss servers and I was back browsing the net with the best of them. Modern news services are brilliant online constructions, and they were all pointing to me being completely and utterly screwed. Not that I hadn't figured that out already, with my face plastered all over the news. They'd have a fucking holiday if they knew what had happened to the area between my legs. Gods, having two hairless thighs and nothing in between them just feels wrong and is really distracting when they rub together. And no, I can't change my appearance either, there's a certain tenseness across my body that snaps uncomfortably when I try.
That said, it's better than the alternative, even if they'll probably try and dissect me when they catch me. Ignoring the paranoia, what I'd really wanted to check out was the darknets. And boy, they were wild. Posts everywhere about my identity, who the attackers were, who the imposter was. I tidied up a few loose ends, remained silent on the raging debates and checked my PM's. What I found there made my blood go cold.
“Bastards.” I muttered. Two messages from two different users belonging to the same rough group. The first was a general 'I hope that this finds you well...' message I'd been getting from nearly everyone. The other, well, it was titled: 'Welcome to your new life...' It only got worse as I read the rest of the message.
You probably have a lot of questions about the new you and I'll do my best to answer them in time; We do, after all, owe you debt of gratitude for making this possible and I was almost certain that a hacker of your quality could not be simply human. I assure you that we'll be able to keep you safe from the government and anyone else who's after you. See you soon.
Remember, you're one of us now.
The wireless jamming mutant.
Parsing the link through a threat detector found nothing. Clicking on it got me a google calendar appointment, with a time and a place, I ran a hand through my hair and looked out at the world, giving the mirror a glance.
There was a cop car. Behind me.
Time slowed as I flicked ignition, and the blonde cop glanced up from his radio and started pulling his pistol. Something was yelled as I jammed my way back into traffic, eyes frantically searching the skyline. There. Two blocks away. Slightly to close for comfort, but it would have to do.
The sirens were already starting up as I dumped the car outside the multi-story, shoving the most important hard drives into my cargoes pockets before slamming the boot shut. I was such a fucking idiot, should have dumped the car when I had the chance. Now, I was left hoping that they didn't catch me between the stairwell and finding a floor that was empty of people. Two sirens had already pulling up as I reached the third floor, my half formed plan of stealing a car already feeling like a very, very bad idea. But hey, I tried every car door in the long line from the stairwell, laptop weighing heavily at my side.
The first open door one was an old focus, ideal for anonymity, but useless. I couldn't hot-wire a car if I tried and great concrete structures aren't known for their internet access or guides. The fourth open door was a new BMW, the first piece of luck I'd had all day. The second was the model. The third, well, when I touched the steering wheel, it felt like touching the remnants of someone's life. At that point I figured that since the police probably had the place surrounded, and had already searched the first floor, I'd relax and try to find out as much as I could about whatever strange ability I might have. Hell, I wasn't going to get out of here as me.
Shrinking was not what I expected, and have I mentioned how unsettling it is to feel most of the bones in your body fall apart and rearrange themselves? On the flip side, the ethereal flickerings had left the steering wheel.
“Oh my.” I found myself saying in a British accent as I flipped the mirror down from the sunscreen. “That is impressive.” The women that stared back at me had brown hair, a refined, yet saucy, face and prominent jaw. My tongue grazed across my lips suggestively as I smiled, giving her a 'just fucked' look. Suddenly, my car-jacking plans seemed like a very good idea indeed. They were, after all, looking for a guy.
The most sophisticated part of the theft prevention measures on a BMW is the lock, requiring that the key not only fir the lock, but also that it’s internal circuitry transmit the correct wireless key when plugged in. I pulled off one of the panels inside the glove compartment, plugged a USB cable straight into the maintenance interface and overrode the entire thing with some proof-of-concept attack code, bypassing every anti-theft feature in the car and starting the engine. You have to love design oversights. All I had to do then was pay the parking ticket with shoes that dangled off my toes with every step I took and I could leave.
~
The police had already covered every available exit and entrance by the time I'd driven down to the ground floor, grinning like an idiot the entire way. I hadn't needed to adjust the seat, or get used to the smaller turning circle, I just drove. Until I was stopped at the gate, of course.
“Is there a problem, officer?” I asked as my posture shifted slightly. Suspicion, followed by intrigue, followed by lust flashed across his features. Damn, this would make him so easy to manipulate.
“We're looking for thirty year male and... what's with the clothes?” He managed to ask.
“Well, I was at my fiancée’s last night and, well, forgot to take a change of clothing. I decided it would be best to ah, borrow some of his instead of wearing yesterdays...” The police officer's eyebrows raised in an amused smirk as the prepared story rolled off my tongue. I pretended to be offended. “And you would not do the same for your lady?”
“I would indeed. Anyhow, let me check the boot and you're free to go.” He said, mind obviously more on the sex than the clothes part, but as he waved me through, I couldn't bring myself to care that he'd only looked at my face once. At least he hadn't spared a glance at the laptop and lack of keys in the ignition. That would have been awkward.
Driving to the nearest mall was one of the surrealist things I've ever done because I think I was preening slightly when the guys in the other cars were checking me out. Not that I liked it at all, I just did. Not that I'm saying that breaking down and crying in a corner is my normal habit, but it just felt... natural. Then I flicked the sunshade mirror down before leaving and half-started checking my makeup. That broke through the haze. I am, or was, or could be, god being a shape-shifter is confusing, a guy(?). Lack of male sexual organs notwithstanding, I'd have thought that an automatic make-up reflex would have taken more than twenty minutes to acquire. But then, I'd practically flirted with the cop at the gate and... I opened the glove box, finding a photo.
“Woah.” I said, unnerving myself as my nipples hardened. I'd never seen the guy in my life even if he was sooo familiar, and whilst he was attractive in that Greek statue way, guys aren't my thing unless... With a shudder of revulsion, I felt skin flip back to blue as everything redistributed itself like a wash of heat. This time, when I opened my eyes, the photo didn't do a damn thing for me. Neither did my blue hand as it threw it to the floor. Great.
Picturing my old self didn't do anything. Neither did picturing the girl I'd been for a short period. Well, I got the tingles when I concentrated, but every time opened my eyes, the small changes that had managed to assert themselves just reverted back. Then I tried it with just a hand, I started with the whole deal, imagining hairs, skin colour, size. Five minutes later I had a skull splitting headache and all I'd managed to find out is that my bones have more in common with plasticine than anything structural had a right too and that, after bending my fingers back until they were actually resting against my arm, double jointed was a little bit of an understatement when applied to me. And freaky, really freaky.
Now that the brute force method had failed, and whatever the hell I was didn't come with an instruction manual (female parts not withstanding). That left me trying what had happened last time. Placing one hand on the steering wheel, I let out a breath, and watched the strange cells of my body flip in a wave. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed it. The upper-class sex kitten look was back. Almost. The blue eyes had become turquoise, and the hair had more than a hint of red. I'd lost the jaw of doom and my tits were smaller. Yeah, big disappointment there. Fortunately, the skin tone hadn't changed much.
Letting out a sigh, I started to think. And smiled. How stupid am I? The link between my first shift and the second? Bodily fluid. My blood on the suit and whoever owned this car's sweat on the wheel. But it didn't explain my behaviour or my partial shift. I like to think that I'm good at reading people and mimicry but I'm not that good. Unless... it wasn't the DNA or whatever it was that my body was using: it was the very imprint of that person on the item. And that would erode over time, giving me an imperfect copy. A cold flush washed over me as I considered the possibilities. After all, if my body copied appearance and behaviour patterns as well it was more than likely that I copied fingerprints and retinal patterns as well.
I could be anyone, walk anywhere and no one would be able to tell. I could... actually, that's a good point. I still had a vagina in my male form, and that was from blood. You don't get much more personal than blood so maybe I can't shift my organs. Which would go some way to explaining the hair loss, I guess, and...
I'm a girl. Permanently.
I know I'd woken up as a girl, but that was temporary and... shit. Bring back the personality buffer, 'cause I was going to be one for the rest of my life, even if I could look like a guy. Temporarily. I looked down, looked across at the mall and sighed, feeling the play of breasts across shirt. “I need new clothes.” I told myself firmly. “And something to eat, and to post the drives to a safebox, get some cash of the cards and...” My mind spun as I tried to devise a safety net for the meet. There had to be some way of changing this, or altering it and... Well, the easiest way of not thinking about something is to think about something else.
Hotel Room
4:33 PM
“What?” Rhian snapped over the phone, rolling back onto the bed before snapping upright. “You did? That's great. Did they find him?” There was a pause as she let out a breath and slammed back against the pillow. “He just disappeared? Tell me you got something from the car.” A smile broke her lips. “Perfect, I have a contact in the NSA who'll probably want to look at them. Also, I had a thought last night. It's possible this could be gang related in some way, the terrorists would probably have had to use some local muscle, might be another lead you could chase up. Thanks, bye.”
Swearing at the clock, she forced herself to get up, cursing at only getting four hours of sleep. Even the marines got more than that between deployments. But hey, there were still some stale pastries on sale at the hotel bar and the argument, sorry, report to headquarters only took half an hour. So yeah, there were people burning through buildings, giant sized naked people and a senior executive strangled to death by vines at the top of a skyscraper for a Task Force of seven people to investigate, they could have at least cut her some help from one of the more mundane groups of the FBI.
The emails surfed by, Delirium, or whatever he called himself had yet to find any serious links between Mystique and any source of organised gang. The county techs that had had a look at the contents of their missing witnesses boot said that they had enough data and hacking tools on them to make quite a sum on the black market. In short, they'd gotten close, and he'd still slipped out of a seven story concrete block without anyone seeing anything.
“Do all FBI agents use stay at Holiday Inns and use their hotel's wireless for important information?” Someone asked and Rhian turned, coming face to face with the green lantern. Part of the weight lifted from her chest.
“Do you always wear a skin-tight uniform?” She replied with a chuckle, before the expression froze and dropped from her face. “Please tell me you're here with something that can help and not another disaster.”
Jade nodded solemnly. “I'd have come sooner, but I have a lot to deal with lately and the police are a lot better at dealing with crime like this than I am. You asked the director if he had a way of contacting me?”
Rhian nodded. “We're dealing with a group of people who have kidnapped everyone we know of who has the meta-gene and seem to have the know-how to activate it. I don't suppose you can track them or anything? Hell, even knowing what killed those people could help.”
Jade frowned. “I don't have a way of locating them, but they were killed by a retrovirus, intended to add the meta-gene to someone's DNA sequence. It's non-contagious and the ring estimates that it shouldn't last long outside of the human body. Unfortunately, that's all I know.” Jade said solemnly.
“Well, it's better than the CDC have done so far.” The agent said, scrolling absently through the rest of her emails as she contemplated what to do next. One caught her attention - apparently sent by herself when she was sleeping. “Is there a way I can contact you if we need your help. I don't want to send ordinary police up against meta-humans if I can...” Her phone rang. It was an unrecognised number so she cancelled the call. It rang again. And again.
“You might want to get that.” Jade said with a smile as she wrote a number down on a piece of paper. “You can try and contact me on this number, I'll see you around.” And with that she just disappeared.
“Great.” Rhian said, flicking the phone to her ear. “Agent Rhian, FBI, who is this?”
“I lived in an apartment under the name of Miller.” Her breath caught in her throat as she hurriedly scribbled the number down under Jade's. As far as she was aware, that information hadn't been made public yet.
“Mystique?” She asked carefully, trying to remember anything in her training that dealt with this.
“You can call me that.” The standard Microsoft text-to-speech tool read down the phone.
“We know you didn't do it, if that's what your calling me for.” She started nervously. “The other witness has already cleared you and it's dangerous for you out there. If the organisation who's behind these attacks gets to you first, we don't know what they'll do with you. Why don't you come into the station and talk face to face, in safety.”
“I prefer death to a cage, however gilded.” The voice replied. “But I agree that they are dangerous, the question is dangerous to whom?” Rhian's eyes went wide as a green light picked up her pen and started scribbling down an address.
“So you know who they are?” The FBI agent said, nodding her thanks to whoever was watching. “Do you have any information for us that could help?”
“Maybe, maybe not. We'll see.” He replied.
“I could try and get amnesty for you in exchange for your help, if that's what you're worried about.” She had to offer. It didn't matter that only the local police could do that, she could always talk them into agreeing.
“I don't have anything to offer you in return yet, but we'll see. And I seriously doubt the government would leave me alone if they knew what I could do.” He continued. “Be on patrol around seven tonight, and we'll see what happens.”
“Any particular area you'd like me to do that in? The city's rather large.” Rhian asked, slightly annoyed.
“South-east.” Her mind raced. Warehouse district.
“You're meeting them, aren't you?” She asked, there wasn't any reply. “Why?”
“Curiosity.” Was the reply.
“I'll get you a pardon, we can stop any more killings, rescue the...” She bought down from her ear in disgust. He'd hung up on her half-way through, like he didn't care about that. Trust a hacker to meet a group that had tried to kill him just to find out what they wanted. Which meant that he'd only phoned her to announce it was happen, and ensure that there were police in the area if anything went wrong. Hitting the speed-dial for the captain of the local police she snarled, no one was going to use her like some twisted sword of Damocles.
“Hi, it's Rhian, our suspects currently at the West Brooks Mall, and I need a trace on this phone number so we can get its location the moment it's switched on.” There was an angry squawking on the other end. “Fuck procedure, this is what we're going to do...”
Unnamed warehouse building
7:11 PM - Mystique
I slid the battery back into the phone as we pulled up. The driver looked at me anxiously. “Are you sure this is the right place?” he forced himself to ask, the signs of worry pulling at his eyes. “This ain't the district for a young girl to be alone in at night.”
“I'll be fine.” I told him with a smile, slinging the laptop bag over my shoulder and handing him his fee. “A friend mine lives round here; he converted one of the warehouses into a workshop.” The cab pulled away as I walked into the dingy light cast by the flickering bulb above the door. It made me wonder just why I was doing this. Being a girl the entire time wasn't that bad, was it? Sure, I was curious as to how they'd done it, but... I let out a breath. They'd already tried to kill me once after all. But I had a security blanket: I was amazed at how fast the cops had gotten to the mall. I just hoped they'd be as good here.
I knocked on the door. It opened an inch. “Who the hell are you?” A gruff voice asked.
“Your boss wanted to talk to me.” I said as calmly as I could manage.
The guy on the other side snorted. “Didn't realise the boss had ordered a hooker.”
“I'm not...” I started to say, looking down at the fairly plain shirt and pants combo I was wearing and wondering where the hell they'd gotten that from. They grabbed my arm, wrenched me indoors and slammed me against the wall before I could react.
“Now then.” One of the guards said through yellowing teeth. “I don't know what you're doing sneaking round out turf, cause there weren't no broads on the guest list. So don't struggle, don't scream and we won't give you something to make you more, errr, eager to please.” He said with a smile. I nodded, not bothering to struggle as I slammed a mental clamp on my facial expression. I needed to think. And avoid showing one drop of fear.
“You do realise that I'm not alone, and that if I don't come out of here in ten minutes to tell my friends it's okay, you're all going to die, right?” I said calmly, smiling. “Of course, if you don't get your hands of me I might just kill you myself.” He snorted, trying to act nonchalant, but his face told a different story. “Although, seeing what Mystique would do to you might be entertaining.”
My feet hit the ground as his mouth narrowed fractionally, his brows furrowed and the bottom of his eyes flattened for the briefest of moments. Fear. My name shouldn't do that, they knew me as a hacker, if they knew me at all. Wiping the stench of his hand of my face with a handkerchief and sorting out my clothes, I gestured down the corridor. “Shall we?”
~
It turned out that it wasn't much of a walk. The black eyed man had set up court in the middle of the giant empty space that was the warehouse proper, with the administration area and entrance reserved for the goons. Luckily I had a moment to observe, as a balding man in a yellow suit yelled frantically at the man behind this whole mess.
“I tell you that we keep our heads down and don't draw attention to us.” He yelled as I took a brief look at the metal ceiling, concrete floor and couple of guards. “Do you have any idea how many of my dealers have been shaken down. My lieutenants are already sleeping police cells and it is all because of you. You wanted local help to pick some people off the street.” He gulped, nervously looking at the corner where three people lay unconscious, covered in grime and tied lightly with rope. “But this, this is ruining me.”
“So I expect you've come to extort some sort of money for your silence on my presence.” The meta-human said condescendingly. “Which is a shame, since we'll be leaving in three hours and the police wouldn't believe you anyway.”
“I was, err, actually wondering if you could put in a good word with your dealer for me.” The crime boss blustered. The meta-human shrugged and started to walk away, the teenage girl next to him looking anxiously up at him as he did.
“I'll be sure to tell him the next time we meet. You never know, he might decide to let you in on one of his jobs next time we meet.” I couldn't help but smirk. Distancing was a classic that I hadn't expected crime bosses to use when they were lying. You expect to see something their face, but not posture; they're generally too experienced for that.
“Thank you.” The other man said with a gulp and started to leave.
“Now, who the hell are you?” The meta-human said with a snarl as the other guy left.
“Said she was with Mystique, boss.” The grunt who'd escorted me in here said, letting me recognise them from the tower. The line's tightened around his face. Anger, not good.
“I thought Mystique worked alone.” He said in a perfectly even voice.
“No hard feelings, right?” I asked with a smile, deciding to raise the stakes off the bat. “That stuff you injected me with, do you know how to reverse it?”
His eyebrows raised and I hoped he hadn't noticed the slip. “Nice disguise.” He commented wryly, putting paid to that idea. The grunt behind me gagged. “But why would you want to reverse it?” He asked nonchalantly as the girl by his side suddenly started paying attention to me. “We're the next stage in human evolution, why would you want to deny that?”
“Do you want a list?” I asked at my most sarcastic. “Just tell me if it's reversible or not.”
“It's not.” He said firmly, not even bothering to lie. “Can't you see that this is a gift, we have abilities and powers that make us more than human, better than them?”
I snorted at that. “I'd still prefer being able to walk down a high street as myself without anyone screaming or calling the cops.” Which would happen. In either of my natural forms, not that I'm considering the female one as natural. Just, well, that was I'd have an identity.
“And that is what I'm trying to work towards.” He said leaning forwards. “It's only a matter of time until they start rounding up people with the meta-gene, documenting us, tagging us, restricting us. But if we start now, then we can prevent all of that, stop it before it happens.”
“Or you could cause it.” I said, shaking my head. “How do you think that killing people is going to change anything for the better?” I sighed, reaching slowly into my pocket. He grimaced, showing a flair of anger.
“It wasn't supposed to kill them. It was supposed to give them abilities. My backer thought that, if we turned the rich into people like us, they'd change the laws to their benefit - Like it's always been in this country.” He said softly. “Otherwise they'll just try and control us as though we're weapons or property.”
“Like they've done to Jade or the other meta-humans.” I asked sarcastically. My finger managed to hit power button on the phone. This guy was insane; I just needed to get out of here. “No one is going to kill us. Hell, they can barely find us.” I said darkly. “Four kidnappings, out of the entire city? Statistically there should roughly one hundred and fifty people with the meta-gene of which seven might actually have something you could call a superpower. The rest of us are just genetic anomalies, not worth bothering with.”
“Err, boss?” One of the goons asked, forcing us to break eye contact.
“What?” He snapped.
“Guys on the perimeter say that there are a lot of cops around tonight.” The grunt's eyes strayed warily in my direction as I fished the phone out of my pocket. “Way too many for normal. It might be time to get out of here.”
The leader's eyes turned to meet mine. “They don't know where we are.” I said calmly, checking the signal indicator on the phone. Nothing. Time for plan B. “But I needed some insurance to make sure you didn't simply finish me off and be done with it.” He nodded to the guards who'd suddenly pointed rifles in my direction and the teenage girl got up started walking towards me.
“Get ready to leave.” He snapped to the grunt. “You don't trust me?” He asked.
“Last time we met, you nearly killed me so no, I don't trust you.” I stared at the girl, raising the phone. “You also kidnapped everyone you knew had the meta-gene, and since that now includes me...” I let the sentence.
“But we're the same now. I expected it, to be honest, a hacker of your calibre, able to copy an FBI database.” He said softly. “You were too good to simply be human; I was just freeing you from a boring life, like I did them...” He pointed to the prone figures in the corner.
“And yet here you are, ordering around a bunch of hired human thugs to do your dirty work, with the people you've freed tied up in a corner.” I raised the phone as the girl took another step closer. It took a silent photo of the group’s leader as I did, it would give the police someone else to chase. “Don't come any closer.” I told her.
“You're just confused.” The girl said in a fairly timid voice. “It's alright, we're not going to hurt you. ”
“It won't work, I'm blocking the signal.” He said calmly and she placed a hand on my wrist, biting the bottom of her lip.
“I know that you idiot, that's why...” Everything went black.
~
“She's coming round.” Someone said as I started coughing into the floor, starting to shiver in the icy puddle I seemed to be lying in. “Next time, don't put someone to sleep until I tell you to.” The leader said as I tried to move my arms, finding them bound behind me by a course rope. My ankles had suffered the same fate.
“But she was threatening us and she didn't have any powers, so I thought she might be plant.” I recognised the girl from earlier and an icy chill settled in my stomach. That'll teach me to underestimate naíve looking teenagers.
“Yes, but she knew where we were meeting, and knew about Mystique. People like that, they always have a backup plan and if she knew about my abilities from before...” He sounded nervous. Good. I hoped the fucker rotted. “You said she didn't have a text ready or anything?”
“No.” She said softly as something wrenched at my hair and I yelled.
“What was your plan?” He asked sternly as I opened my eyes, he was kneeling down in front of me, one hand holding my face from the floor and the stench of ancient flooring and stored goods. Fuck my breasts hurt. I laughed, never thought I'd be thinking that. “Answer me.” He yelled with a scowl, wrenching my hair back again.
“That hurts, you fucker.” I snarled back.
He leaned closer. “And I thought it was just a wig. Do I need to put you out again?” He asked whimsically. I laughed. The scowl fell from his face. “What?”
“You don't have the time, you ever heard of a dead drop?” I asked with a smile. The leader paled and started cursing.
“What's one of those?” the girl asked timidly.
“It means that if a remote server somewhere in Switzerland doesn't have a certain code input into it before a certain time, every policeman, FBI agent and media outlet in the city gets the address of this place and every other scrap of information I've collected on your little organisation emailed to them. And I've got a lot.” I smirked. Sure, the last bit was a bluff, but I wasn't going to give them a reason just to cut my throat and run.
“When's the cut-off?” The leader asked with a snarl, rolling me over so that my tits no longer ground into the dirt.
“I'm cold,” I said bitterly, thrusting my hands in his direction, “and these things hurt.”
“Fine.” He said coldly, and started rubbing me down with a towel one of the grunts tossed him. “The bonds stay.”
“What time is it?” I asked lamely. He checked his watch.
“Seven forty three.” I nodded. It had triggered three minutes ago. All I had to do now was get out before the shit hit the fan.
“You've got twelve minutes to give me my laptop, the 3G dongle and stop jamming communications.” I said with a smile. “Oh and I want a taxi; without your goons accompanying me.”
“That’s it?” He asked with a disbelieving expression. “Because I think you're lying. Hell, I'm not even sure you're Mystique. What's your ability?” He asked with a smirk.
“I got turned into a girl and lost about thirteen years off my face.” I lied with a sneer, “Not everyone gets super-powers.”
“I'd love to believe that but...” Two muffled thumps stopped him dead. “Were those gunshots?” He asked.
“I'll deal with it.” The girl said with an eager smile, running towards the entrance.
“Stop her!” The leader yelled as everyone else readied their weapons and a hand was shoved over my mouth. Everyone waited, anxious. There was a third thump, some sort of discussion and then. Silence.
“I need some help carrying this one.” The girl yelled back out of there as everyone relaxed. The hand was removed from my face and backhanded me, causing the world to spin slightly.
“Shit, she's an FBI agent.” The girl said nervously, as I struggled to see what was happening. “The police'll be here any minute.” There was a new woman, early twenties unconscious at their feet as the girl rummaged through her pockets. Why the hell had she come in here alone? And why the hell were they tying her up like I was?
“It doesn't matter. You go on ahead to the next hideout, take the others with you. I'll make an example of these two using the serum. I've got another six doses stored in a safe place.” The girl nodded as the pair seemed to notice me again. “Put her out for me would you?” He asked. Swearing, I tried to shift my hands and feet out of the ropes, but my form held firm, locked in its current composition. The last thing I saw was the girl’s regretful face as her palm covered my eyes.
Police Headquarters
8:30 PM
Captain Johnson stared at the blip on the screen. It had been nearly an hour since they'd lost contact with Agent Medina, a little under half that since they'd confirmed that her body was not among those left at the location, and the dead street thugs, with the lot numbers filled off their military assault rifles, looked as useful as the rest of the case. Five minutes had passed since the tracker that indicated the cell phones current location had last moved. His hand reached for the coarse, reassuring grip of a police radio.
“SWAT Team one looks like they're settled down. Execute as soon as you're ready and able to secure the hostages.” He said calmly.
“Acknowledged.” Was the brisk reply.
“Just a warning, some of the hostages might be meta-human's, be careful.” The man at the other end laughed.
“We're always careful.” Johnson couldn't even manage a smirk at that. He'd liked his compatriot from the FBI, no matter how much it galled him, and he could only contemplate the reasons she'd gone in alone, without contacting them. Had she been discovered? Had it looked like they were about to move, execute a hostage? Or maybe she'd just lost radio contact, and none of them had had much sleep lately. He sighed. Four hours in the last thirty-six. And now all he had to do was wait, and let the dice fall where they may.
The drive to the location was dark and introspective, the street lights passing by like strobes as the apartment block loomed in the distance. Ten minutes hour after he'd arrived, the SWAT team went in with a bang and it was over in seconds. He held his breath, hoping that something today would go right. Only three hostages were walked out and one angry looking captive. None of them were Rhian. His heart sank.
~
“I want a lawyer.” The girl said as he strode into the interrogation room. Oh, it was called an interview room, but that had nothing to do with what he wanted. He placed the badge and empty pistol on the desk in front of him. “And you can't keep me chained up like this.” She rattled the cuffs holding her hands firmly to the back of the chair.
“We've talked to the others.” He said coldly. “We know what you can do and what you did, so why don't we start with talking about where Agent Rhian is and maybe we won't talk about why you were found in possession of her badge and firearm.”
“I'm not saying anything till I get a lawyer.” She said nervously. He leaned in closer.
“Let me put things straight for you, whoever was in charge of this whole thing probably fed you some nice bullshit about how everyone was out to get you, and as you're young and naíve and probably didn't realise that that thing he injected you with would've happily killed you if it weren't for genetic quirk and well, it's called Stockholm Syndrome, you've probably heard of it.” He raised his hands at her protests. “We also take the death of a fellow cop very seriously. Bluntly, you could be looking at spending the rest of your life in a six by three concrete cell. So, I'll ask you again, where is she and where is this man?” He slid the photograph across the table, trying not to show how much the pitch black eyes of the freak scared him, even in pixelated mobile-camera-blow-up form. “Preferably before he kills her.”
He watched as she stared at the photo and the badge, sweat forming on her brow. “I don't know.” She said eventually, and he bent down to pick up the badge and went for the door. “Wait.” She said, squeaking slightly. “I don't where he went.” She said quickly. “He said he was going to give them the same thing he gave me and the others, and he kept it at the safe house of the brotherhood, sisterhood, convent... I can't remember what it's called, all I know is that he used to be a member and quit when whoever gave him the serum came along.” She saw the question in his eyes. “No, I don't know who it is. He never told us anything, didn't trust us that much.” She said, avoiding eye contact completely. “Look, he blanks all electronic communications in about a two hundred meeting radius and I don't think he can turn it off. Maybe you could find him from that?” She asked hopefully.
Captain Jhonson stared at the teen, only a little older than his own daughter and looked away, thinking. “I need to make some calls, I'll be back.”
Taking a step out the room, he checked for the number Rhian had insisted he program into his phone earlier and hit the call button. “The number you have called does not...” A roboticised voice said before being cut off by a slightly wary sounding female one “Hello?”
“Is this Jade?” The police captain asked hesitantly. “Because I know this isn't a volcano or a hurricane or anything, but we could really use your help.”
“Yeah, who is this?” The green lantern asked.
“Erm, Captain Jhonson, US police force investigating the uh, forced mutations. I'm really sorry for swearing at you, but Rhian's being held by the guy in charge and we have no idea where he is.” He tried to explain, fidgeting with his collar.
“So what makes you think that I'll be able to find him?” She asked solemnly.
“Well, he apparently blanks out all electro-magnetic communication in the vicinity, I was wondering if you had something that could detect that, we'd do the leg work if you could, it's just that I'm sure how long she has and I don't know how we'll find them otherwise...”
“I'm on my way.” The Green Lantern said with a sigh.
The Captain slid back into the room with a smile on his face after informing the rest of his officers what was happening. “Alright.” He said to the teen. “You're officially here as a witness and you parents are on their way.” She smiled. “However, we still have an interview to do, so let's start from the beginning...”
Unknown Location
??:?? - Mystique
“I always thought the FBI would be made of sterner stuff.” My mouth was dry, tasted of sweat and dirt, and a rough textile texture kept my tongue pinned and my jaw open. “But don't worry, your friends and colleagues won't see the blood or the cuts, or the tears.” The FBI agent opposite came blurrily into focus, her hands were trapped behind the chair her legs were tied to, and she was stark naked apart from the cloth gag in her mouth and the sweat drenched hair that covered her face. There was a faint hardness in my chest until I looked down. Being chained up is only sexy when you're not the girl who might get raped.
“Ahh, so our second little human is awake.” The black eyed man said, coming over to me whilst twirling a Stanley blade through his fingers. “I thought my first cuts would have woke you up, but our little friend must have really put you out of it.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as the bloodied edge of the blade ran over my skin, as I bucked and tried to avoid it. “Oops.” he said as the blade nicked at my breast. I whimpered into the gag.
“Ah, are you happy, now that you've ruined everything.” He said, backing away slowly. My mind raced for a way out of this, pain is very good incentive. “I was just going to kill you, but then I saw the news: 'SWAT team saves hostages.' Thank you for that. Fucking human.” He said dejectedly, pointing the blade in my direction. “But you slept through my loving attentions somehow, ignorant of the workmanship of the cuts. Look how shallow they were, they've almost healed already.” He sounded slightly unsure of himself at that and I tried to make eye contact with the agent, trying to signal that we weren't helpless. Not quite. A hissing sound snapped my attention back to the man.
“I was going to torture you some more but that started to lose its attraction about an hour ago.” He was bent down over a crate of some sort, pulling out a glass syringe. “I don't know more strange, how I never realised how much fun this could be before my awakening, or how I didn't realised how much that old bat was holding us back. Didn't want us to activate the people in that database...”
He strode back over to me, steam seeming to evaporate from the syringe he held like a blade. “Don't worry about the cold; the virus just doesn't survive outside the human body without it. To unstable they tell me.” Reciting various micro-expressions in my head, I waited for him to make a mistake. Besides, it had already turned me into a girl, what else could it do? The next time he turned his back, I'd be ready.
The needle sank slowly into my neck, spreading an icy pain across my body as he pushed the plunger down, savouring every second. “Enjoying this, are you?” I lowered my head as the syringe pulled out; staring absently at the knife he'd left on the bench next to me.
He turned. I shifted, shrugged out of my bonds and forced myself to my feet. Stumbling over to the knife took longer than it should have. Strong arms grabbed my body from behind as he yelled out and threw me backwards; my naked body flush against his chest as the area started tingling. My arm swung in an arc impossible for a human bone structure. The small blade sliced into his throat and the arms fell away.
Blinking, I stared at the bloody blade in my hand. There had to be something more in that shot then the virus: walking over to the Agent... Rhian even, was two much effort for it not to be. Her eyes, they were wide with fright, I noticed. Sliding the blade up and down the rope. Couldn't keep my eyes open. Even as the last strand was cut. The boom of a gunshot rent the air and I lost consciousness.
The coppery taste of blood and a faint whimpering bought me back to reality. A slick, sweaty body was pressed against mine and the taste of her washed all over my skin along with a warm, sticky liquid. Everything felt like it was on fire and I could swear my bones were floating in my scraping the insides of my veins.
“That's right, bleed all over her.” The bastard's voice chuckled softly. “I was aiming for her, but she won't be around for long enough to appreciate that. Soon her body will start twisting and mutating, unworthy to handle our power. I think I'll make you watch, give you a better appreciation of what'll happen to you.” The weight was lifted from me and I struggled to open my eyes. Fucking sedative. “Alternatively, I could just kill you, though the bullet practically did that. Never thought a shoulder wound would be that messy.”
My eyes opened. He stood over her, blood running down his neck as my limbs slowly came back to life. I got one arm underneath me just in time to see the end of the needle plunge into Rhian's neck as she paled from blood loss. I can't really explain what I felt in that moment. Clarity for the most part. Clarity narrowed down to a single focus whilst rage bubbled like acid in the background. I rushed him, knocking him off balance, and shifted, removing height and weight difference in a millisecond.
Two moves later he choking the life out of a clone of himself and I shifted again, wrenched his arm away and threw him to the floor. I looked down. Rhian, it seemed, was stronger than him. Somehow, I'd ended up with her body instead of my blue one. I absently shifted to blue and back, trying to think of why. Then he stood up, and I was staring down the barrel of a nine-millimetre pistol.
Everything went into overdrive. The lights blew out. His finger pulled the trigger. The bullet hovered inches from my face. Then everything went back to normal. And the bullet still hovered in mid-air.
“Damn you.” The asshole who'd tried to kill me croaked, eyes fixed somewhere behind my head. What happened next will stay with me for the rest of my life. First, his nose started bleeding, and then the gun in his hand flung itself to the floor and stuck there with a loud clang. Lastly, the bullet flipped through one-hundred and eighty degrees and tore his head apart with a high velocity impact.
The lights didn't turn back on, leaving the room illuminated by the street lights outside as I slowly turned round. Rhian slowly spasming on the floor beside me. A kind looking lady, old enough to be someone's granny stood smiling in the doorway. I took the crimson coloured gag out of my mouth, trying to shake off the faint feeling of guilt and blood-slicked skin. Hell, I'd probably swallowed some.
“I'm glad I arrived in time.” She said with a smile as I heard things move behind me. She was short, leaning on a cane and scared the living shit out of me. “If only I'd have known earlier...” She shook her head. “The poor misguided lad, believed he could avoid a second Holocaust by the Gestapo he sought to prevent, fear consumes us all.” She looked me up and down. “Are you injured at all?”
“No...” I managed to get out, as the case of serum floated past my face. “That...”
“Was me, yes. My apologies about the lights, the rapid change of magnetic flux required to stop a bullet tends to do that.” She said with a smile. “But where are my manners, you can call me Magneta, it's the closest thing I have to a name right now. I assume you're Mystique?”
“How did you know that?” I asked nervously. After, the only Magneta I knew was the other alias who'd bought that database of me. And I just couldn't reconcile the lady with that.
“Your twin is currently mutating into something completely recognisable, therefore you have the meta-gene and are a shape-shifter. Last time I checked Mystique was the only person with the meta-gene outside of police custody.” She smiled sweetly, but her eyes never left mine. There was chilling evaluation behind those that scared me even more than the levitating crate next to her. She noticed me noticing her, and the smile touched her eyes.
“Yes, I like you already. I'd come over and give you a kiss but I don't think I have that much time to spare. And bloodstains are atrocious to get out of clothes, wait till you have children, puts a lot of things in perspective. Oh, and I want you to know that if you, or any other meta-human you happen to bump into, need a place to stay or hide away from the law, me and mine are more than willing to help. And I think you'll encounter a lot of us in your new life.” She frowned as her eyes found the corpse. “Such a waste. Well, you know how to contact me.” The box of serum followed her all the way out, the cane clicking against the floor. I breathed out slowly and shivered, staring down at the perky breasts and hugged myself, trying to ignore the practically healed cuts that criss-crossed my skin.
I'm not sure how long it was until I had company. All I really remember is standing over the dead body of my 'twin'. By the time they came, you couldn't even tell she'd been female, and there were these glistening, puss filled, bubbles all over its surface. Then there was a faint tearing sound and a vague green light covered the area.
“Rhian?” A voice asked from above me.
“Yeah.” I answered softly, without taking my eyed off of her.
“Who's the victim?” It took a moment for everything to process through and I turned to look at the person hovering behind me. It was a girl, in a modified Green Lanterns costume that glowed green. I blinked a few times, looked back at the corpse and frowned.
“The person who told us where they were.” I said softly in Rhian's voice. “I'm not sure who she was.” Her hand closed on my arm as I took a step back, and armed cops started pouring in through the doors. The ring was cold against my bare flesh but when I looked down again, well, the emerald peasant skirt and blouse hid things, but it hadn't been there before and I still felt... Soiled underneath it.
“All I could think of.” Jade said apologetically before frowning. “That's weird; the ring says that you're now an active meta-human.”
I nodded slowly, mind running down familiar paths. “Yeah, they injected me with that, whatever it was as well. I just didn't die.”
“Well, the ring says you're genome's stable, so I wouldn't worry too much.” Jade asked. “Do you know if there are any other vials of the stuff around?”
I shrugged, still running on auto pilot. “There might be, I haven't really had a chance to look. How did you find me?”
“Some massive electro-magnetic surges, the ring was able to triangulated a probably location.” She stared at me for a couple of seconds as one of the cops, having cleared the scene, put a blanket round me. “Do yourself a favour, and get yourself a shrink when you're out of here, you look like you need it.”
I nodded as the glow receded back up into the night. I clutched the blanket tighter. Something splashed on the floor. I was crying. Why was I crying?
FBI Headquarters
Two weeks later
“You're lying.” The agent behind the one-way partition said with a smile. “I think... I think that you were at Mrs Rutherford’s house before the murder. In fact, I think you've been there multiple times, are you willing to tell us why?”
“Don't answer that question.” The lawyer said with a frown.
“Okay then, I'll tell you. You engaged in sexual activities with her, probably involving a surprising amount of latex, am I right?” She asked with a faint smile.
“How did you know?” The suspect yelled over his lawyer, leaning across the table. The one way glass turned a little more opaque on the two observers side as the noise cancelling technology kicked in.
The agent in charge shook his head. “Sometimes I swear she reads them like a book, I'm going to miss her and I've only known her a week.”
“What makes you think she's leaving?” The director of the FBI asked with a sly glance.
He chuckles. “I've seen her record, and even if she can barely hold a pistol now and has had to re-read the manual from scratch, she's a natural. Hell, she conned you into letting her back early, didn't she? I'd have paid to have seen the look on her face when she told you what she considered 'light' duty. It's helped her a lot though. Oh, you also don't leave your office to observe field agents unless you're wondering what to do with them and need a little bit of reassurance, sir.”
The director snorted and stared out through the window. “You have no idea how glad I am that her genome's intact. Hell, I had one of the big shots over in the NSA phone me up this morning politely informing me that if I wasn't going to use her, they would. Apparently she's been a closet computer geek all these years and it took loosing most of her memory to bring it to the fore.” He said with a sigh. “But yes, I'm glad all she got out of that incident was minor regeneration and some sort of empathy boost. Giving up one of the HRT to the army was bad enough, Special Agents are another matter entirely.”
The other man whistled. “You're promoting her?”
“Of course, I've had to with all the meta-human agents.” The Director smiled as she leaned across the table towards the suspect. “It's a shame she didn't lose that abrasive personality, might have found her a partner then. Still, she's one of us; she'll be okay working alone.”
The agent in charge laughed. “Ay, she's a firebrand, I'll give you that.” The tone in the room sharpened as the lawyer on the other side started yelling at Rhian, who just sat there and glared back.
“Shame it nearly got her killed.” The director said softly. “Send her up my office when she's done would you? I already have a case for her.” And with that, he left.
The Agent in charge shook his head, and picked up the hastily hidden paper, smiling as he flicked through to the business pages. It seemed that Meridian Industries was being acquired by LexCorp, maybe his portfolio would pick up a bit at that. Maybe it was fickle to blame his financial losses on the same incident that nearly took Rhian but, when the CEO and advisors where killed at that tower, the investors had panicked, sending it all down the drain.
~
Authors Note: I'm not particularly happy with how this turned out, but it'll do. For those of you who will complain that Mystique is supposed to have yellow eyes instead of green, well, I live with computers all day and if I'm going to write about a character in primary colours, it'll be those of light instead of paint. Feel free to use Mystique and her Agent Medina identity in your own Comic Retcon stories, just let me take a look at it first (PM me if you want a character sheet). Thanks for reading.
Comments
The Curious Case of A Missing Witness
So, we have Mystique and possibly Magneto in this story. Will Mystique wear her traditional white gown, or is she the Mystique from the movies, alone?
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
More of the movie variety, I
More of the movie variety, I see Mystique as more of a self-interested third path character than either explicitly evil or explicitly good. As for the costume, I never really bought the whole cloth shifting ability, so my version doesn't have it and what's the point of being a shapeshifter if you're wearing an easy to identify uniform?
Thanks for reading
Comic Retcon Universe and Center
Dang, another Whateleyite! It's like both Lilith Langtree's recently opened superhero universes are dragging all the lurking (or non-lurking) Whateley people out of the woods!
Nice story over all.
Thanks ^^ Yeah, they both
Thanks ^^
Yeah, they both involve superheros and the ability to do lots of fun stuff. Not that I'm addicted to that sort of thing at all.
*closes trap door behind him as he goes back into hiding*
Well I liked it!
You may not be completely happy with the story (what author ever is?) but I was definitely entertained. I still feel that traditionally evil characters just don't work in a 'real world' setting; the Joker spending six months in a body cast and escaping to spread horror again and again doesn't sound very viable; if I know you're a psychopath, I'm not going to play around. Which makes antiheroic or selfish characters like Cat-Woman and Mystique much better examples of what a superpowered criminal would be like, IMO.
Good job!
People assume that time is a strict progression of cause-of-effect...but actually, from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly...timey-wimey...stuff.
Mystique
Mystique has always been a favorite of mine. Not so much for the shape shifting as for her capacity to be either or along with 'none of the above'. Classifying her as good, bad, or neutral is just not easy to do.
Mystique
As I understood, he was a sociopath, right?
However, the powers that she acquired also include an imprint of personality when used, so it no longer applies, not so completely at least. And, perhaps she inherited a little of Rhian's convictions.
You know, I wonder how would she fare if she and Catwoman met, on a neutral territory? Those two are already awesome infiltrators/geeks, and to have them work together...
Faraway
Big Closet Top Shelf
Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!
Faraway
Big Closet Top Shelf
Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!
Can you say Crossover?!
I knew you could. : )
People assume that time is a strict progression of cause-of-effect...but actually, from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly...timey-wimey...stuff.
*glares*
Now you've both got me wondering what would happen and my muse is grinning evily again.
I really do not want to think what would happen if Mystique got her hands on some of the non-suit dependant aspects of Catwomen's tech.
On the other hand...
*sighs*
Aaand?
How is that a bad thing?
Faraway
Big Closet Top Shelf
Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!
Faraway
Big Closet Top Shelf
Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!
Very Good Retcon
Mystique is one of my favorite comic book characters so I was ready to cut you a lot of slack, but I didn't have to. This is a really good story.
Some of the descriptions seemed a little muddy to me but the story flowed well - except for the occasional, pesky typo!
I like that you didn't have her shapeshift clothes, and I like how she copies someone. It seems much more realistic to me the way you wrote it.
Thanks very much for the story.
- Terry