Chapter 9

Agent Finn met me after school again to go to our (my) favorite place. The Starbucks a few blocks from the school. He wanted to discuss what he had uncovered in his preliminary investigation. I ordered a Chai tea; he had his usual black coffee. I never could understand how anyone could drink that stuff. The “good” coffee tasted like a cigarette smells.

We sat down to some weird stares from some of the patrons.

“What’s up with the all strange looks?” I asked.

Finn looked around. He looked at me and smiled. Have you noticed what you look like? How you are dressed?”

I didn’t get it. “Yeah, so? I always look like this.”

You are an incredibly attractive young woman in the company of an older man. You’d get stares anyway, but since you’re with me, they obviously think something’s up. Use your gift. You’ll see.”

“Ick. I’d rather not. I’ll take your word for it. I don’t like to do that unless I absolutely have to. Sometimes I get pictures.”

“I suppose you’re right. I have to admire you’re restraint, though. I have to admit I’d be poking around everywhere if I were in your shoes.”

I winced and looked down at my feet. “If you were in my shoes, your feet would be killing you. Try 4 inch stilettos for a full day. Besides, the last time I poked around, I got the attention of that psycho Shadow King and it got my parents killed”

Finn looked down. “I’d rather not, Betsy. I get your point.”

“Well, Betsy, I did some checking on your buddies from the Hand, and I’m sorry to say I know nothing more than I did last night. These guys are tighter than Al Qaeda and harder to infiltrate.”

Taking a sip of my tea, I sighed. “Great. What do I do? I’m getting a little bit tired of sleeping with one eye open. These bags under my eyes are not my best feature”

“We are watching the place for now. The person you saw was gone by the time I got there. He must have suspected something was up. I swept for bugs in the house and found nothing, so I can’t say for sure what’s up.”

I was starting to get a little frustrated. “Finn, I’ve got a katana in my room and I know how to use it. If one of those little creeps gets past your guards, I’ll cut him in half. I swear!”

I know, Betsy, and I would advise you to keep practicing on your abilities for the time being.” He pulled a folder out of his brief case. “Here, I want you to look at this.”

Taking the folder, I undid the string holding it together. Reading the forms, I realized what it was. They wanted me to become a metahuman agent for Homeland Security. I looked back up at Finn. “Are you crazy? I’m only 16!”

I said that a little too loud, and a few people did a spit take and a couple of older men looked sternly at us. Oops. I just realized what that sounded like. Red faced, I concentrated on all the minds in the room and wiped that last little bit of information out.

Whispering this time, I said again “I’m 16! I can’t be a government agent. Are you trying to get me killed?”

“I know what it sounds like. We are not putting you out in the field right away. You will be on the payroll effective immediately. It’s not a fortune, but it’ll do for a girl in your position. You will be required to do about a month of training in the summer, but you’ll be pretty much free to live your life with a minimum of interruption. There may be a couple of times we’ll need your particular skill set, but those times will be few and far between. You will get a full scholarship to the college of your choice, in exchange for 5 years of service after you graduate with whatever degree you choose.”

“That sounds too good to be true, Finn, but since I can tell you aren’t lying as far as you know, I’ll think about it” I looked at the cover again. Printed at the bottom was the name “Psylocke”.

Curious, I asked, “What is a Psylocke?”

“It will be your code name. We put your skill set into a computer program and it spits out a code name. This was the one selected”

“Why do I need a code name?”

“Well, we don’t want to use your real name in any operational documents, and this gives you a measure of anonymity.”

“Cool. I like it. Psylocke. Ok, let me talk to Tracy. What she thinks is important to me, and I won’t do it without her permission”

“I anticipated that. Only your immediate family can know, and they must keep the secret. Your life could very well depend on it.” He was deadly serious.

Biting my lip, I suddenly got very uneasy. “Ok, Finn. I’ll call you when I’ve decided. I know there are a lot of nut jobs out there who make my skills look puny, and I don’t want to get squashed. You know I won’t do anything to violate your trust. What happens if I say no?”

“I’d be lying if I told you that we wouldn’t be disappointed. You would be put on a watch list, and your opportunities beyond becoming a housewife would be limited.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a choice, Finn. I told you I was no threat”

“I know that, but what I think doesn’t matter much. You have a gift, and Homeland wants to make sure you aren’t up for bids, or worse.”

I looked at what was left in my tea cup. I suddenly felt very small. Without thinking about it, tears began to course down my cheek. I didn’t care about a big career, if I were a housewife, so what? It would be okay with me. But what effect would this have on Tracy? Would she still want to share a life with me if I were some sort of outcast?

Finn noticed my distress, and reached out to my hand. “It’s going to be okay, Betsy. I’ll support you no matter what decision you make. But these are the rules. I may not like them, but I have to play the hand I’m given.”

I dabbed at my eyes with a tissue. Damn, I hated how emotional I had become. “I know, Finn. Please take me home”

As we left the building, I felt my skirt lifting up. Grasping at the hem and pulling it back down. I spun around to see a grinning biker standing behind me. He was straight out of central casting, and smelled like beer.

“Nice ass, cutie. How about a free moustache ride.”

“How about you go straight to hell, y-you pig!” I was furious and getting madder by the second.

The smirk disappeared off his face, replaced by a menacing look of violence. He was clearly not used to being talked to like that by a woman.

“Listen, you stuck up little bitch! I’ll….”

His threat was swallowed by the cocking of a .45 Colt pressed against his head. He spoke to the man in a voice that suddenly sounded like and Australian accent “Ah,ah,ah! Be nice to the lady, my friend. Don’t make me nervous. My trigger finger gets all shaky and twitchy when I’m nervous”

“You can’t do anything to me, cop. I know how the game is played. Maybe I take that gun and shove it up your ass!”

“I’m not a cop, Bluto.” He dangled his Homeland Security badge in front of the biker. Suddenly, the bravado was going away.

“Y-y-you still can’t do anything. I’ve got rights.”

“Yeah, you do. You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to an attorney, if you can’t afford one, an attorney will be provided for you. I know you understand these rights. You would be charged with a sexual assault on a minor, a guaranteed conviction with my testimony. Five years in the pen, and a ‘short eyes’ label. If you make it out, it’s a lifetime of being on the sex offenders list.”

“You can’t make that stick!”

“Maybe not.” He then whispered in biker’s ear. “Or, I trump up a terror charge on you, and you go to Gitmo for an all expenses paid vacation for an indefinite period of time. Either way, you’re fucked, mate.

Finn then added, "Or, since you’re not really worth the paperwork, I let you go, you ride out of here, and leave town, never to return”

The biker was clearly shaken. “Deal. I’m not even from around here anyway.”

“Then move.”

The biker tore out of the parking lot for all he was worth. I had to start laughing.

What would you have done if he actually lived around here and what was the deal with the accent?”

“I hoped he did live around here. Also, I like screwing with people. No more, no less. Let’s go”

Finn dropped me off at the house. My little Prius wasn’t in the driveway, which meant that Tracy hadn’t made it back yet. It wasn’t yet five o’clock, so Mr. and Mrs. Moore weren’t back from work, either.

Entering the alarm code, I entered the house to find Tracy’s books on the counter where she usually put them. Thinking she may have put the car in the garage, I went through the mud room to the garage. The car was there.

“Tracy?” I called. No answer. I heard the shower running upstairs, and, thinking I might get lucky, went up to her bathroom and sneaked in. The bathroom was filled with steam, and looking through the glass door, found that the shower was empty.

Turning off the water, I called again for Tracy. No answer. Something was definitely goofy.

My cell phone buzzed. It was a text from Tracy. I breathed a sigh of relief. Looking at the text, all it had was and internet IP address and the message “look me up”. I went into my room and pulled my laptop out of my backpack. Turning the computer on, I waited for it to boot up, wondering all the while what she had in store for me.

Typing the address into the bar, a red screen popped up with a password box. “What is she doing?” I said aloud. “How am I supposed to know what the password is?”

I typed in my name. Incorrect. Then my phone buzzed again. Another text from Tracy. “Password imintrouble”.

Suddenly, I felt my heart go into my throat. I typed the password into the box, and a webcam shot appeared. A handwritten sign was taped to the chair. It said “wait”.

I knew something was up. I immediately texted Finn. “Tracy may be in trouble-stand by”

As I texted, a man in a black balaclava and sunglasses sat down in front of the camera. This wasn’t good.

“Good afternoon, Miss Braddock. It is wonderful to see you looking so well” His voice was electronically altered, making him sound almost demonic. I almost got sick right there.

I spoke, my voice trembling. “What is going on? What do you want?”

“So many questions, Miss Braddock.” Came the smug reply “Don’t be so demanding. You’ll know everything in time.” He paused. “What we want is simple. Our employer wants you. You are to turn yourself in to us at a location in Detroit that we will text you. You are to get into your car and drive east on Interstate 94 until we tell you what to do. Is that clear?”

“I’m not going anywhere, you son of a bitch” I spat back.

“Oh, I think you will. There’s a pretty little blonde here that really wants to see you. Here, I’ll show you.” He panned the camera to his right, and I nearly died. There, hanging from the ceiling, was Tracy, completely naked, with wires attached to pads on her eyes, nipples and pubic area.

“TRACY!” I screamed.

“Yes, Tracy. A lovely girl, and she loves you very much. She put up quite a fight.” I wanted to kill that bastard right there. “She can’t hear you right now and well, you can see that her eyes aren’t much use to her, either. And, you see, every time you lose control there, she pays for it here.”

He pressed a button on a remote, and Tracy convulsed in agony. She screamed. It was a hoarse scream, and it was obvious they had been working on her for some time.

Collapsing on my knees in front of the screen, I cried out “NO! Please stop it!”

“Am I still a ‘son of a bitch’?”

I was sobbing now. “no” I said quietly.

“I can’t hear you.” He hit her again with the electricity. I could tell he hit her in her sex. This cocksucker was dead.

I screamed again “NO! STOP HURTING HER! I’ll do what you want!”

“Good girl. You learn fast. Tracy here took some convincing before she quit fighting” He continued. “You are being observed. No cops, no friends. Understand?”

“Yes. I understand. I’ll do what you want.”

“Good. You keep this up, and maybe, just maybe, Tracy lives. Otherwise….”

He hit her again, and this time she screamed even harder. Her poor body was unable to take much more. I could see she was sweating profusely. I needed to think. But what could I do?

“PLEASE! STOP IT! I DO WHAT YOU SAY!”

“Start driving” The screen went black.

To be continued......