This is the third and final planned in the "Angel of..." series. The first was Angel of Chicago, the second was Angel of Haven. There may be other stories set in this world but for now this is all I have planned.

Sorry for the sizable absence in posting. This came out longer than I originally thought it would and many parts were difficult to get right.

As usual I plan to post parts every other day.

The Angel of Earth

by

Rodford Edmiston

Part One

Melody stood patiently in front of the desk, waiting for the receptionist to finish with a call, then took a step forward. Despite the strong Midwestern Sun shining in through the floor-to-ceiling windows in three walls the air in the lobby was cool, and pleasant music played quietly in the background. The entire institution was in one large building and a few outbuildings. It was also completely self-contained, including power and sewage processing. This was one of the few places on Earth where empowered tech was allowed without restraint. Even Aaron's Haven did not have all the advanced utilities which were installed here.

"Melody Gundersen, here to interview The Grand Protector."

She felt a bit silly saying that pretentious name, but the man and the organization both refused to recognize any other for him. The receptionist - a hardened professional - kept a straight face, but Melody had impression that she also found that name pompous. However, the receptionist had little ground for complaint about those in charge placing image over substance. Especially given that - whatever her professional qualifications - she was a pneumatic blond obviously selected for her looks. This made sense, considering who was in this organization and the image they wanted to present. The people behind the scenes had obviously decided that the first person people encountered after entering the building - almost always the receptionist - should be conventionally attractive. All part of the effort to maintain the public image they intended to present.

"Yes, Mrs. Gundersen, we have you scheduled. Your interview begins is just nine minutes. Your escort will be here before that."

"Thank you," said Melody. "Oh, and it's Miss."

This despite being married for several years. She had taken her husband's name for legal purposes, but for professional identification she was still single. The receptionist didn't seem to approve but, again, reading her expression was uncertain.

Melody had almost reached the chair she had selected, when a uniformed guard entered from a stairwell. He went to the receptionist and they exchanged a few quiet words. Then, smiling, he approached Melody.

"Miss Gundersen? This way, please."

He took her to the elevator, and in that they rode to the highest level of the building. This structure was dedicated to The Protectorate and the group's work, and built for that purpose. It towered twenty stories, all of the levels taller than those in most buildings. How far the building went below ground was a carefully guarded secret. As were the contents of most floors. The building was quietly ostentatious and almost new, having stood in this field outside Saint Louis for less than five years. It even still smelled new. Melody idly wondered how many of the chemicals in the carpets, the paneling and the sound-absorbing ceiling had since been banned as potential empowerment triggers.

Almost the entire uppermost floor was a conference room. Two of the walls were more of those floor to ceiling windows. One short wall and one long one were solid paneling, except for doors. The single door in the paneled long wall allowed passage from the lobby around the elevators. The big room was empty of people when Melody and her escort entered. There was a very nice conference table, though, with comfortable-looking chairs. In the view of the reporter the facilities, at least, had already scored some points simply because of those chairs. The head of the table was near the paneled short wall, and had a custom chair. A seat obviously meant for someone larger than average size.

"If you will just take a seat near the big chair," said the guard, "The Grand Protector will be here shortly."

Melody did not say "He's too tall to do anything shortly." Instead, she smiled and sat in one of the chairs on either side of the obvious head of the table. She was not here to provoke anyone; at least, not if they didn't need such prodding to answer her questions. That was why she hadn't even brought a recorder with her; only her notebook and a good-quality mechanical pencil.

The guard had barely left through the same door he had brought Melody in by when the tall double doors in the shorter paneled wall beyond the head of the table opened silently. Smiling, The Grand Protector walked in, wearing his usual blue and grey costume with its flowing cape, the doors closing - again silently - behind him. He was definitely was impressive. Melody was not short - especially for a woman - but the Grand Protector towered over her.

Melody figured that the doors must be automatic, since she saw no-one else. Or maybe The Grand Protector was so committed to presenting his public image he had performed that feat with a trivial application of his powers. Either way, that operation looked dramatic on the surface but fell short of presenting a sincere appearance on close examination. She noted that The Grand Protector actually approached the height of some professional basketball players. Only, he was so well proportioned that he didn't look tall, unless he stood by something familiar or got close to the observer. Both situations being the case as he approached the reporter.

"Good afternoon," said Melody, rising and extending her hand. Consciously reaching up a bit.

"Good afternoon, Miss Gundersen," he said, in an impressive baritone.

After a brief moment of consideration, The Grand Protector took the reporter's hand for a perfunctory clasp and shake. Melody was still unimpressed. He moved to his seat at the head of the table, the chair being obviously customized for him. All this reinforced Melody's evaluation that every move was carefully choreographed, and everything in this room was part of a set built specifically to support his performance. She had already noted that he possessed a milder version of the enhanced charisma of some empowered people, such as Aaron Labelle. That might explain why most of the interviews - regardless of medium - with The Grand Protector came off as rather dull and boring. If he could influence interviewers away from questions he didn't want to address... In the case of The Grand Protector obviously this empowered charisma was deliberately enhanced by careful arrangement of the setting and carefully rehearsed presentation. Of course, pretty much any politician and many others who weren't empowered did likewise.

"Grand Protector, my request was to extensively interview all currently active members of The Protectorate. Instead, I was told there would only be a relatively short interview with you."

"That is correct," he replied, smiling and nodding.

"Can you tell me why the response to my request was so limited?"

"I'm sorry, but no."

For most interview subjects this directness would have been unexpected. However, so far he was sticking to the same script which had been used by members of The Protectorate in previous interviews. They were annoyingly consistent.

"So I am only allowed to speak with you."

"That is correct."

The continued directness was actually disarming. Or would have been if it didn't have the same carefully practiced air as everything else he said and did. Melody knew that many of those who had been granted interviews with The Protectorate had been completely guided in their discussions by The Grand Protector or someone else involved with the team. Often without realizing this until the fact was pointed out to them later.

After shaking hands and answering those preliminary questions, The Grand Protector waited for Melody to sit, then took his own seat at the head of the table.

"Very well," said Melody. "There have been many accusations against several member of The Protectorate - including you - that you have been rather careless in respecting the rights not only of the people you pursue, but ordinary civilians whom you encounter."

"We are not the police. We're the people the police call in when something is beyond them."

He smiled disarmingly and spread his hands.

"Do you want criminals coddled or caught?"

Melody knew she had to be cautious. Though nothing had been confirmed, The Protectorate was rumored to be behind several disappearances of people too critical of them, including at least two reporters famous for their hard questioning of interview subjects. Fame and popularity were no protection from this risk; one of those who had mysteriously vanished had been an up and coming state senator who wanted The Protectorate investigated for reports of assaults on people who turned out to be uninvolved with crimes. The tentative plans for an investigation had died with his disappearance. However, there were other complaints from other people of power.

"Senator Warren has said that because you are federally sanctioned, The Protectorate should be subject to the same rules and regulations as any federal law enforcement agency."

"Who is this, now?"

"United States Senator Adam Warren."

"Well, I haven't heard any of this. If he has a criticism let him tell us directly. We've nothing to hide.

"However, his objection is irrelevant; we aren't a federal law enforcement agency. We're more like specialist contractors who are called in to handle problems no-one else can. If the government doesn't want us involved, they don't call us. So, all our operations have de facto government approval."

"Let's change topic, then," said Melody, well aware her time was limited. "You are one of the most powerful empowered on record. Yet no-one heard of you until about eight years ago."

"I don't want to discus my private life," said The Grand Protector, calmly but firmly. "I will only say that my empowerment occurred not long before my first public appearance. I was blessed with potent abilities from the start - as some empowered are - and have strenuously trained ever since."

The entire interview went like this. Nothing which reflected badly on the team or its members was acknowledged. No personal information was given. After just twenty minutes a chirping alarm sounded - in the middle of one of Melody's questions - and the Protector rose.

"I'm sorry; your time's up."

"You didn't..."

"If you have any more questions," said the still-smiling Protector, over his shoulder as he headed for the already-opening doors, "you'll need to make another appointment."

Before Melody could say or do anything else, the door she had entered by opened, and the same security guard came in. Also smiling - but leaving no doubt that she was expected to obey without question - he motioned for her to follow him.

Fuming, but keeping her emotional state bottled firmly inside, Melody followed him downstairs and exited the building.

* * *

The wait at the airport and the flight home were not particularly long, but Melody was still able to use the time to organize and expand her notes from the interview. However, she waited until she was actually back in her office - late in the day - before writing her article. This went quickly, since she had already formatted the document in her head, so she didn't need to use much overtime. Word processors and automatic printers were a big help with modern news craft. She left a hard copy of the manuscript on her boss' desk and went home. Fortunately, John was already home and had started supper, thanks to her calling him at every stage of her journey with a progress report.

* * *

Gadding caught her on the way to her desk as Melody returned to work the next morning. He told her to follow him back to his, instead.

"Close the door," said Gadding, as he moved around behind his desk.

"Is it that bad?" said Melody, unconcerned, as she complied then took her own seat.

"That," said Editor in Chief Gadding, as he patted the stack of printed sheets, "is a good article. It gives the pertinent information - mostly as quotes, which you know I like - and implies a great deal more without stating anything too critical as fact. Even The Protectorate's hyperactive law firm will have a problem causing trouble over this. Yet it is validly critical of them personally and much of their work. Good job."

"In a way, I hate to hear you say that," said Melody, shifting uneasily in her chair. "These people are dangerous. Though that's also good news, of course. Someone needs to cause trouble for them. If it has to be us..."

"When has that sort of risk stopped us?" said Gadding, raising an eyebrow. "If you think you can provide the same information in a way less likely to... irritate The Protectorate you're free to rewrite. Though, frankly, I don't see it."

"I was thinking more of making sure that certain people and groups know about The Protectorate and the danger they pose by asking their opinion about the group. I've already spoken to Blackpool. He pretty much agrees with me, and he told me his agency is already watching them."

What went unsaid but both knew was that - in his civilian identity of John Parker - Blackpool was Melody's husband of several years.

"I especially want to speak with Malak and his brain trust. There is a good chance they already have a solution."

"That is a good point," said Gadding, with a thoughtful nod. "If we can present the threat to our readers, then relate what is being done about it, so much the better."

"So I have your approval for another trip to Haven?" said Melody, grinning.

"Yes, you have my approval," said Gadding, rolling his eyes.

* * *

By prearrangement, the next morning Blackpool dropped Melody off in a deeply shaded part of an overgrown grove of trees near one side of the central park in Haven. Like the town itself, the grove was out of place in the area. Aaron and several others had insisted on the park - and the trees - when planning the town. For some reason, though, while the park as a whole saw heavy use, this stand of trees wasn't very popular with the inhabitants. As a result, not only was it usually empty, it was overgrown enough to provide concealment. As well as deep shadows.

Melody actually felt a great tension ease. She felt safer here than in New York or even at the chemical repository. This was not entirely psychological, either.

"Thanks for the lift, hon," said Melody, kissing Blackpool through his full-face mask as he put her down. Carrying her was not strictly necessary when taking her through the shadows with him. However, that did make the process easier. Besides being more intimate.

"You didn't leave any lipstick this time, did you?" he asked.

"Nope," said Melody, after a quick check.

Her husband smiled at her through his mask and left. He'd be back to pick her up later. Melody's time in Haven was therefore limited. Which meant she had better get moving.

She set off at a quick walk on the familiar way to Aaron's home. Waves were exchanged with several people she recognized, or who recognized her. One of the harder things Melody had needed to learn for her visits here was to greet everyone she came close to, whether she knew them or not.

A woman Melody did not know answered the front doorbell at Aaron's home. She scowled at Melody.

"Yes?"

That came out reluctantly, as if she expected Melody to know what the woman wanted and was irritated when the reporter didn't.

"Melody Gundersen to see Aaron Labelle."

Melody hoped Aaron wasn't away, dealing with some emergency. Or in his official office, in that small building beside City Hall. She had called, yes, and he had confirmed he'd be at home, but she knew that even with this sort of prior scheduling his presence was not guaranteed.

With obvious reluctance and no more words, the woman escorted Melody down the short, wide, tall hallway into the large den. There she looked pointedly at one of the couches flanking the coffee table until Melody obediently sat.

"He'll be with you in a moment," said the woman, apparently now somewhat less dissatisfied with the situation. She headed for the roomy home's kitchen.

Melody had time to appreciate anew the structure. It was in some ways like a small version of a mountain chalet for wealthy vacationers. There were exposed beams, supporting a high ceiling, and oak paneled walls. The architecture and furnishings were archaic, largely unchanged in the decades since the structure was built and equipped. The home was atypically grand for the man who lived there, being a gift from the occupants of Haven decades before. He had mentioned to the reporter that while he wouldn't have chosen such relative opulence for himself he suspected that his wife (long deceased, now) had a strong hand in both the gift and its design. Naturally, he had felt obligated to accept it. Aaron did admit on occasion that the expansive features of this home had helped with his work. That included the comfort it provided.

Melody suddenly heard the woman talking, presumably to Aaron.

"You can't keep bringing home strays."

The reporter felt a bit insulted at this. However, when Aaron entered a few moments later, he was smiling and carrying a young, solid grey cat.

"Melody," said Aaron, as he put the cat on the other couch. "Good to see you again."

She stood and they shook hands. Melody had the definite impression that without the coffee table between them he would have hugged her.

"I'm glad you had that cat where I could see it," said Melody, not amused, as they released and she again sat. "For a moment, there, I thought she was referring to me, with that comment about strays."

He laughed.

Aaron Labelle was a bit below average height, slim and with black hair. He certainly didn't look his age. Or his power level.

"I'm afraid Coral is a strict disciplinarian in many areas."

"Coral?"

"My new housekeeper. Coral Johansson."

"She's... rather outspoken," said Melody, not sure whether to be offended or amused. She grimaced, as she realized what she had said. "When she talks at all, that is."

"Well, I specifically asked for someone who would stand up to me," said Aaron, with a slight smile.

As Aaron sat, the cat jumped from couch to coffee table to other couch, and began examining Melody.

"Oh, don't mind her," said Aaron, presumably talking about the cat. "She's still learning how to be social."

Melody smiled at the cat, and let it sniff her hand. However, when she reached out to pet it the feline hopped off the couch and walked unhurriedly into the kitchen.

"I'm glad you could see me so quickly," said Melody, as the cat left the room. "I'm working on an article - perhaps even a series of them - on The Protectorate. I'd like your evaluation of them."

"My first evaluation is 'Not that old gimmick, again,'" said Aaron, wryly.

Melody pulled a stack of photostats out of her large purse and handed that to Aaron.

"The Protectorate is fully sanctioned by the government of the United States," said Aaron, his tone neutral as he rapidly leafed through the document. Melody knew he was reading every word, and would even be able to quote the entire document back to her exactly. "How this state of affairs came about is a matter of dispute. Their status isn't exactly legal. In fact, it violates several federal, state and local laws, the Constitution and even a few international treaties. However, they have proven themselves useful enough that these violations are usually overlooked by those who benefit from their actions. A classic mistake on the part of those in power.

"What is known for certain is that their behavior is becoming less and less lawful. Collectively, they are a group of empowered who are rather full of themselves. Individually, some are better, some are worse. Because the group is useful to the US government and - through that organization - the UN, their less than legal activities are also not merely tolerated but often praised. Though such reactions are getting harder and harder to justify, as the offenses of The Protectorate increase in number and degree, as well as blatantness."

Aaron finished reading and put the papers in a neat stack on the coffee table. The edges now lined up more evenly than Melody had ever managed, and he hadn't even thunked the stack on anything.

"So what can be done about them?" said Melody.

"I believe this is a situation best corrected by a combination of legal decisions in various law courts at various levels and the court of public opinion," said Aaron, leaning back on the couch, looking thoughtful. "This has already started. There have been multiple court decisions against them, as well as voices raised in opposition to some of their excesses. However, so far they either plea bargain and pay off the plaintiff without admitting any wrong, or have simply ignored any decision which does not favor them. The popular rejection, though building, is currently much less than the adulation. However, besides sheer charm, they seem to have some influence - possibly due to an empowered ability - reducing the effects of all this on the group. Until enough governmental agencies and enough people decide they are more of a liability than a valuable resource, their immunity will likely continue."

He smiled. It was not a pleasant expression.

"Unless, of course, they overmatch themselves and go against someone who simply crushes them. That 'someone' wouldn't necessarily be empowered, either. It could even be an institution, rather than an individual. So far, though, The Protectorate have avoided that blunder. They are being very careful in most ways."

Melody wondered if Aaron were including himself and his group of troubleshooters among the "someone"s.

"They haven't done anything to interfere with your work," said Melody, indirectly approaching that matter. Making clear that she understood this was why Aaron and his group hadn't taken action against The Protectorate.

"No. I think they deliberately steer clear of those who are actively working to help people, whether there are empowered included or not. They do tend to be very conscious of their public image. As for dealing with other empowered who are actually causing trouble, their record shows that they normally pile on several times as many combat effective empowered people as whoever they're going after has available. They are likely worried about losing a fight and ruining their image of being invincible. Which means they sometimes ignore very powerful individuals or groups. Not that I can fault them for that... However, they are rapidly approaching a point where they are being asked to go against more powerful and/or influential people. The Protectorate may soon find themselves asked - and not necessarily by any of their public supporters - to apprehend someone powerful enough to give them more trouble than they are ready for."

Melody nodded. Aaron had a good feel of the pulse of world affairs, as well as information provided by the empowered brains working on the latest iteration of their quantum computer. His forecast was deliberately vague - probably of necessity - but was likely accurate.

"What if they do decide to interfere with your work?"

"Then we will deal with them in what seems the most appropriate manner," said Aaron, flatly.