Part Fourteen

Malak flew down towards the green of the roof garden on the Chicago City Hall. He was planning to land where he could see many emergency responders waiting on the cordoned-off street. However, the sound of breaking glass diverted him. He saw a fire axe come out of a window on the top floor of offices, which was shortly followed by a woman. This was definitely not the Mayor; in fact, the window was on the county offices side.

Malak swooped to intercept her. She was badly cut - oddly, the injuries did not seem to be from broken safety glass - and as he brought her to the closest paramedics he healed her. He set her down and took off again, not saying a word and not seeming to notice people shying back from the storm of dust his wings raised. Malak could now see many broken windows, and felt both sadness and anger at what that implied. He flew into the building, ghosting through the wall to one side of where the woman had come out.

His intent was to find and stop whoever was causing this disturbance. As he entered the room, however, he was suddenly flooded with nightmare thoughts.

He had to do something, but every option was a bad one... including doing nothing! People were dying and he couldn't help them! Malak solidified and staggered, as he was bombarded by the fear of making a mistake, of failing, of being inadequate. A woman began laughing. She stepped out of shadows, revealing herself now that she was sure her prey was helpless.

She was strangely dressed, in her own version of fetish gear. This included a collection of short whips and knives, and spikes on her black leather clothing, including her hood. What little skin she showed - around her eyes and between the seams at her neck and wrists - was as dark as her costume. Still laughing, she drew a knife in each hand and approached the apparently helpless Malak.

"So, the mighty angel is brought low by his own fears! Yes! No-one is immune to my power!"

Malak suddenly grabbed her wrists, skin to skin, and took them both desolid. All her belongings - including her outfit - stayed behind.

"Really, Twilight," said Malak, outraged at her crimes and trying to reach her psychologically. To make her feel that what she had done was wrong. "Unreasoning fear is for animals."

Her eyes went wide, and she tried to pull away. Her power flared manically, but had no discernible effect on Malak. Panic was rapidly growing in her expression. She screamed.

"Ah," said Malak, gently. "I see. Your greatest fear is someone you can't control through fear. I'm sorry."

"Wh-what... I don't..."

"I assume you were supposed to render me incapable of resisting and either hold me here for your allies, or take me where they are waiting."

"I ain't sayin' nothin'!"

"There goes the accent," said Malak, nodding. "Well, we are leaving here now. If your compatriots come here I will return for them. Otherwise, they will have to wait for later. There are other Emergent who are causing serious and immediate trouble which needs to be addressed first."

Again she tried to pull free, more frantically this time.

"I'm taking you someplace where you can't hurt anyone," said Malak, gently. "Where you can get help."

"NO!!" she screamed, trying again - and again in vain - to pull away.

Ignoring her struggles, Malak gathered her in his arms. Invisible and intangible, they flew out through the roof.

* * *

As Private Investigator Michael Schmierer approached the police cordon he was calm on the outside and irritated on the inside. He had worked with the Los Angeles police before on matters involving empowered who were causing problems. That normally meant being hired as a consultant. Sometimes he was also asked to find and have a - usually stern but non-violent - talk with the offender. This time, though, he had simply and brusquely been ordered to the scene of a disrupted wedding reception.

"What can you tell me?" Mike asked Detective Andrews, his on-scene contact.

"Woman, mid- to late-twenties, wearing jeans, western style shirt, hat and boots and a long coat. She disrupted a wedding party, starting about seventy minutes ago," said Andrews, barely glancing at Mike before returning his gaze to the park pavilion he'd been staring at when the PI arrived. "She's armed with a swarm of some sort of small flying machines. They shock people, and at least some can blow themselves up."

"Ow..." said Michael, now noticing a destroyed park garbage can. "So, have there been any negotiations?"

"The only thing she'll say is that she wants 'that traitor' Malak."

"Yeah, that makes sense. Sort of. She's part of a group of rogues. Malak recently killed one of them in battle, protecting refugees."

"We tried contacting him, but his service says he's busy with another emergency. Apparently, several of these nutcases are acting out all over the continental US. What really worries me is that they seem to be holding back, saving their real attacks for him."

"I'll go in," said Michael, with a sigh. "Maybe she'll listen to another empowered."

"That's what we're hoping."

He straightened, absently tugged at his clothes and drew his sidearm. With the muzzle pointed in a safe direction, Mike flipped off the safety and press-checked his faithful HP-35 to confirm it was ready to go. He had an aftermarket 15-round flush magazine in the well, plus a cartridge in the chamber. He also had several known reliable spare magazines secreted about his person. All his ammunition was a proven dependable commercial load with jacketed, hollow point bullets.

Safety on and gun back in holster, Mike turned and walked between two of the police cars into the park. The Sun was high and warm, especially since he was wearing a jacket. The grass was tall and soft, the air still and a bit fragrant. He kept his hands in plain sight and approached the pavilion openly, walking slowly.

"Hello? I'm here to tal..."

A small object came whirring in from his left, having apparently been hiding in a nearby bush. Mike dodged, but the thing came back around, and there were now more on the way from the original direction. He drew, flipped the safety off, aimed and fired in one smooth motion at the first of the drones. It exploded with a palpable bang. There was no time to celebrate.

Mike needed five shots to get the four remaining approaching drones. Only, there were now more streaming out of the pavilion. Worse, some were heading for the police cordon. The LEO weren't helpless; some even had shotguns. However, skeet don't normally dodge. Mike felt honor bound to protect the police, since his approach seemed to be what triggered the assault.

He entered a fugue state, aiming and firing incredibly fast, smoothly reloading when the slide locked back and continuing. Some distant part of his brain felt glad he had modified the gun to cycle faster, even though that made the slide stiffer to rack and required full-power ammunition to work properly. Several times he somehow knew there was a drone approaching, without seeing or hearing it. Each time, Mike spun, verified the target and fired. A drone coming from behind him while he was shooting one about to dive on the police almost got too close; he dodged and managed to wing the device, and it went whirring off out of control, to strike and total a lamp post.

Under the cover of the pavilion, Gizma was growing increasingly desperate. She knew she was superior! How was this man - an unknown, not even her target - doing so well?! The Emergent were as above the other empowered as those were above mere humans! Their philosophy ensured this!

"Would you just die, already?!"

Mike could hear the woman shouting in agitation, demanding that he die. Again came that feeling of threat, this time ahead and to the left. Another quick turn, to spot the drone, aim and fire. The slide locked back. The woman screamed "Now! Attack!", and the drones hovering, waiting their turns, plunged at him.

Mike dropped and rolled, reloading as he bounced back to his feet. Several of the drones impacted the ground where he had been standing and exploded, leaving smoking holes in the turf. Three more shots and two more drones were out of action, with the miss harmlessly striking high on the side of a nearby building.

Gizma had run out of tricks. All she could think of to do now was to swarm the man. Which meant she wouldn't have anything left for Malak! With a growl of fury, she stepped out to confront the stranger, raising her arms to open her coat and loose all her remaining drones.

Mike could tell the woman was getting increasingly angry and frustrated and even frightened, though he could only get brief glimpses of her. Until she suddenly stepped out from cover and threw her arms wide. Dozens of drones flew out of her open coat. Mike took the opportunity to snap one shot at her center of mass, then began dodging and shooting drones. After a frantic few seconds he was still alive, though panting and sweating. The drones were all gone, shot or impacted into the ground or a lamp post or a mail box or whatever. The woman was also down, and moaning.

Mike took stock. He had three rounds left and his attacker was still alive, though apparently out of action, laying on her side. Keeping the HP-35 pointed at her, he warily approached. Her eyes were open, staring at nothing. Mike was startled to see that there was no blood. In fact, he found the expanded bullet embedded in the fabric over her stomach. Apparently her clothing acted as light body armor. He was glad his bullet had hit over the solar plexus, where the transmitted impact had stunned her. He was not entirely certain that was due to luck, which was as scary as any of her attacks. Mike quickly and deftly ripped the duster off her, tossing it aside. His caution seemed warranted, as there was a buzzing sound from the coat, and it began emitting sparks and smoke.

He put the safety of his weapon on but didn't holster it yet; it was too hot. Instead, he put it on the grass within reach, then knelt and held her hands behind her back and looked around. Slowly, cops began coming out from where they had sought cover.

"She needs to be cuffed, then strip-searched, then given medical attention," said Mike, to the closest cop. "I emphasize the strip search. She definitely had weapons hidden in her coat."

As this was being done - the strip search by a female officer under a hastily deployed cover - Mike simply sat on the grass, beside his still hot pistol. Andrews approached.

"Good work. Very good work, in fact. However, you're under arrest for having illegal magazines."

"You know very well that I'm a licensed Private Investigator and have permits for everything," said Mike, tiredly.

Andrews laughed, and clapped him on the shoulder.

"You need to get something more modern!"

"Yeah, yeah..."

* * *

Malak circled the area invisibly, taking a good look around. He was frowning, just a bit. Georgia's capitol building wasn't much older than him, and even as a child he had thought the rotunda and dome were too small for the rest of the structure, throwing the proportions off. Though he did like the statue of Miss Freedom on top of the dome. He was actually riding an updraft, making the flying easier. He had the amused thought that the thermal must be due to residual hot air from the legislature previously being in session, but quickly quashed that. This was a serious and potentially lethal situation.

There were no overt signs of damage at this site, but police, ambulance and fire vehicles and personnel were gathered around the building, along with a large number of press and rubberneckers further out. He thought about landing on the walkway around the cupola and looking in through the windows to see if he could spot the trouble. However, he also realized this was simply a held over desire from his childhood. Maybe another time.

This time Malak did land at the collection of emergency vehicles, as he had planned to do in Chicago. He was quickly directed to a police captain and the head of capital security, who were working together on this most peculiar problem.

Fortunately, there did not seem to be any rivalry between the man and woman. They occasionally interrupted each other, but more from distressed excitement than from trying to one-up each other. The gist was that a strange man had appeared in the rotunda, and begun grabbing people and disappearing with them. He had literally laughed at the security forces when they tried to stop him.

"If this is one of the Emergent," said Malak, nodding, "it must be Ekimmu. He can go out of phase and take objects - including people - with him. The description of his fuzzy grey outfit also fits."

He asked questions, and the other two answered as best they could. Malak thought hard as they discussed the situation; what was the best approach with this man?

Suddenly, a pair of hands appeared out from nothing, reaching for the man and woman he spoke with. Malak had no idea what it would do to them to wrestle to keep them in this phase of reality, but thanks to his speed he didn't need to. He instead grabbed the intruding wrists and pulled their owner into the physical world. The captain and security chief squawked in surprise as the stranger suddenly appeared, his body actually shoving the woman aside a bit as Malak pulled him forward.

"Ekimmu, yes?" said Malak, scowling his disapproval. "The others you took desolid had better be all..."

The Emergent man reacted suddenly, unexpectedly yanking free and going desolid. However, as he turned away from where he had reached for the man and woman he found Malak already there, behind him in the same phase dimension as himself.

"Are you trying to lead me somewhere?" said Malak, with a slight smile. "Wherever you go, I've been there before you."

Unlike the previous Emergent Malak had confronted, Ekimmu was alarmed but not frightened. In fact, he was more wary even than alarmed. Around them, those people he had already brought into this grey plane were noticing - and reacting in various ways to - Malak's presence. However, Ekimmu's attention was almost entirely on the winged empowered man in front of him.

"You got a choice," Ekimmu said, backing away, smirking. "You can stop me, or you can take these people back before they wander off. Like I said: Your choice."

He gave Malak a smug grin. However, there was no hesitation on the part of the older empowered man.

"There's no debate," said Malak, turning from him. "You can wait for later."

He spread his wings, addressing the others there.

"May I have your attention, please! You need to gather around me so I can take you back where you belong!"

This was not a foolish maneuver on the part of Malak. He could sense Ekimmu's position and movements even from behind, thanks to his passive sonar. The Emergent man did wait for a bit, perhaps even considering an attack, but eventually turned and hurried away. Which was fine with Malak. The other could, indeed, wait for later. Right now, Malak had to determine the best method and order for returning these people to the plane they were accustomed to.

* * *

Melody had finally tracked the person responsible for the damage in Central Park to a storm sewage structure on the edge of the area. The clue had been that one of the chunks taken out of the ground by those bizarre holes had exposed a sizable storm sewer running under the park. Marks in the loosened earth on the edge of the hole showed that someone had descended into the tunnel after the hole was made. Since exploring the rest of the park had revealed neither the culprit or Blackpool, Melody on a hunch moved at ground level in the direction the current trickle of drainage flowed. She found a concrete bunker surrounded by a thick row of hedges. The door was locked but she could hear muffled sounds from inside. Including what sounded like someone talking.

Melody had never covered anything about the New York sewage system - or any sewage system, for that matter - but she remembered reading and even hearing that there were often large underground chambers involved. "Flood control structures" she thought they were called. Or was that something for a river? Well, never mind. The echoing sound confirmed that there was likely a chamber inside and below, which was much larger than what showed above ground.

Picking the lock was easy. That was there to keep kids out of trouble, rather than to prevent theft, after all. Thanks to the tall shrubs the door - most of the structure, actually - was in shadow, though she still eased it open the bare minimum and immediately closed it after she slipped through. Melody fumbled a bit in her purse before finding her light. She smirked as she recalled this gadget was made with two products invented by empowered, which had - reluctantly - been allowed on the market a few years before. The power cell was good for decades of use and the light source somehow converted electricity directly into light. All this in a package easy to hold and as bright at maximum as a theater floodlight.

Melody planned to turn it on at the lowest level. However, even as she dug for the device she could already dimly see light from somewhere below. She peeped carefully over the railing which ran along the edge of the short walkway leading to the stairs. The interior of the structure - as she had expected - was mostly under the ground, though it wasn't as large as she had envisioned. The odor in here was unpleasant but not nearly as bad as she expected. Below, amid the pipes and wiring - which included bare bulbs hanging from suspended cables - was a man in black and silver, pacing as he spoke on some sort of communicator.

"No, he still hasn't showed. Yes, I'm in the chamber, where he can't maneuver. I'll go back out and try again in a bit. I left clues as to where I am. If he ever shows he should follow them right to here. I will be ready, have no worry."

From his accent he was English. Probably middle class and well educated. While he was distracted by his conversation, Melody carefully began making her way down the stairs.

She reached the bottom before he noticed her. She had her press pass out, and was holding it in plain site. She had the flashlight ready to blind him, if necessary. The strange man saw her, stopped pacing and talking and just stared.

"Melody Gunderson, New York Glory!" she said, boldly. "I would like to interview you."

"I'll call you back," the man said, before putting the device away. He stared at Melody for a moment, then smiled. "Oh, yes. Malak's pet."

That was actually not a bad start to interviewing a hostile and potentially dangerous subject. He was dismissing and underestimating her, but still willing to talk, if only to tell her how hopeless she was.

"Are you a member of the Emergent?"

"Of course I am, you poor, dim thing," he said, airily.

"Are you trying to bait Malak here, to ambush him?"

"Again, this is obvious."

"So... You don't think that your plan will also be obvious to Malak?"

Still smirking as he opened his mouth to snark back at her... and froze. He was busily contemplating the implications of her question when another voice spoke up.

"Of course it is, you poor, dim thing," said Malak, materializing between the stranger and Melody, facing him. "You can surrender. You can flee. You can fight. Your choice."

The man at first backed away several steps in surprise, but then recovered quickly. He smiled, and held out his hand. A tiny ball of... something formed above his horizontal palm. Despite being black, it was surrounded by a distinct shell of light, which twisted in odd ways. The ball rapidly grew larger.

"Normally, I don't bother with anything more than the basic," said the man, still smiling. "However, I believe you deserve my best effort."

"Do something!" said Melody, peering around Malak's left wing.

"All he's done so far is..."

Before Malak could finish, the man blew on the ball. It shot across the room, directly towards the winged man.

Malak quickly threw a spear, intercepting the strange attack. The ball swallowed most of the blast and continued on undeterred. Melody cried out, reflexively covered her ears and backed away at the bang, but managed to keep watching.

Malak dodged. The eye-itching sphere curved up and around and headed back towards him. He blurred across the room and put the man in black and silver between him and the ball. The man screamed in wide-eyed terror as the projectile hurtled towards him.

Realizing the man either couldn't or wouldn't stop his attack in time, Malak moved them both out of the way, barely pulling his left wingtip clear as the thing shot by again. Space was tight, as the stranger had intended for his trap.

"Stop that thing!" Malak shouted. The man screamed and struggled to get free. "If you won't stop it, how do I?"

"You can't!" the man shrilled, as Malak dodged the two of them out of the way again. "It doesn't stop until it is sated!"