"I will look," Klsyfrx said shortly, while Onetsu continued it's futile search. Klsyfrx shimmered for five seconds of fractured light. Then the shimmering stopped.
"A reporter named Scott Summers is in a town in the desert. We shall go," Klsyfrx commanded. They disappeared from their present location, leaving behind an explosion.
******
So, I'm wondering how I'm going to get home, when I find the giant walking chicken, the stone wall, and the man with the eyes of fire."We have studied your plan of attack and defenses," the man with the fiery eyes stated. He simply disappeared and struck me a blow on the chin. I staggered back. The fire devil was faster than I was! Uh-oh, it was much more powerful than I thought. It could use heat, light, warmth, anything related to fire. I would have kicked myself for realizing that fire was one of the ancient Greek elements, and that people always believed in fire since that time. Fire was a concept used by Zhuge Liang, the ancient famed strategist in China, and was a useful stratagem in war. Besides, the speed of sound is no match for the speed of light.
"You will be eliminated before you become a true threat," the walking stone wall boasted. The fire spirit shot the stone wall a narrow glance, as it returned to its job of pounding me into a coffin six feet below. I would have noted dissension in the ranks, except for the fact, that I was trying to prevent blows that were about a thousand times faster than me. The spirits inherent in my essence finally woke up, and armored me against the fire spirit's blows. The healing power kicked in, and so I didn't suffer more than a few bruises against the fire spirit's speed of light. I was going to have to switch tactics since my opponent's speed was faster than me. I shot upwards, with armor and telekinesis. The speed had dropped, since my opponent's faster it doesn't matter.
******
Klsyfrx's eyes narrowed, and it's illusion of humanity were replaced by a burning mass of flames for a few instants, faster than anyone slower than the speed of light could visualize. The thermal updrafts lifted it into flight. The first planned attack had been to estimate the anomaly's strength. The discovery of one of the third general's hidden bases, was extremely unfortunate.******
"Hmm. This Brotherhood of Man sounds interesting," the hooded figure mumbled to itself."Sounds interesting? But the ideas it spreads are contradicting yours aren't they?" the one codenamed Kappa asked. She went by the name Kristine Koper in fieldwork. The agent's work names were often related to their codename, so they could keep their private life and work life separate. Their private names were usually quite different.
"No. They advocate regulation of metagifts, which is ideal. After all, the Protectorate operates with the sanction of the United Nations, Old Glory and the Nighthawks operates with the cooperation of the United States, The new team of Ensigns are knighted by the English Royalty, Canadian Shield operates with national jurisdiction, Los Soldados operates with the backing of San Salvador, Trefoil was created with French finances, and so on. There's a trend toward corporate backing as well with Omega, Permafrost, Pumice, and some kid named Smax!-"
"Smax!?You're kidding," Kappa interrupted.
"Nope. Anyway, the new weapon of mass destruction isn't the nuclear warhead, it's the powerful metahumans. Those are intelligent nuclear warheads, capable of using their powers to cause destruction on a mass scale. Look at the example of the Ireland War. However, most metahumans aren't as powerful as Avatar, or Mindshadow, or Zodiac. Look at Max Dynamo who has absolutely no inherent superpowers. Look at Fist who prides himself on beating people unarmed. Look at Lioness who was a skilled martial artist, but possessed no inherent superpowers. Then there was Pantomime, who's fields of energy are dependent upon his miming skills. None of them were immune to being shot at. Repertoire was a perfect example. Against someone like Avatar or Mindshadow, they'd be dead, unless they were very skilled, or very lucky," the hooded figure rambled.
"Who's Mindshadow or Pantomime? I heard about Repertoire's death on the Irish coverage, Lioness, Avatar, Zodiac, and Autocrat everyone's heard of, and Max Dynamo was one of those people featured on the Liberation Coalition special on that blasted new show about supers," Kappa grimaced. Bad enough that they had the advertisements for Blur and Knock-out's movie. They had even covered the paternity suit by Bandita slapped on Omega. Even Kappa had to admit, not all of it was bad. There was an interview of a Brotherhood of Man representative who's answers were logical, forthright, and made sense on some level.
"Never mind. What was I going on about?"
"Uh...okay." The Twelve were often used to their employer's fits of zoning out. When someone calls you at three o'clock in the morning, to send you to a planet to arrest an actual lizard man con artist, people kind of get used to strange things.
"I'll assign Tau, Mu, and Om. Now let's see the interview again. Besides, it's not good to hope someone will come to your rescue," the hooded figure scolded Kappa.
******
Kappa replayed the interview on her watch."Tonight we have on our show, a representative from the Brotherhood of Man, an organization advocating metagift regulation, New York chapter, Leroy Lattrick. What has fueled this organization's new growth and what of the scandals linking it with splinter groups? Let us welcome Mr. Lattrick." The host claps his hands politely together.
"Mr. Lattrick, what of the scandals linking pamphlets and other distributive materials of people holding hostages? Is there a connection of any sort?" the host starts.
"There is no connection that the Church knows of. It is unfortunate that there are radicals who perceive our beliefs as justification for their own misguided actions. We do give our pamphlets to anyone who asks. An example of one of them is how to survive a battle between metagifted humans if you have no powers of your own. Useful pamphlets such as those," Leroy answers.
"What exactly is the purpose of the Brotherhood of Man?" the host inquires.
"Most people don't yet know, which is why they believe it's dangerous. The Brotherhood simply wants metagift regulations. Licenses for metagifted to operate, or at least a national recognition, so civilians know who to go to for help, and who not to go for help. There's a big difference between someone like the Outsider and someone like Cavalier. People don't trust Outsider, but they do trust Cavalier," Leroy replies.
"Wouldn't metagift regulations make it easier for villains to target the heroes? Say, all the secret identities of the heroes are written down, wouldn't it make it easier to do things to them like the way Omega's world collapsed around him?" the host asks. Leroy shakes his head.
"They wouldn't necessarily have to write their real identities. Police officers often have cover identities to protect their real ones when undercover. Essentially, these are undercover people with metagifts. Although, classification of their potential lethality to civilians would be a top priority. Police officers are trained to carry guns, and they know how much damage they can do if they hit an innocent bystander. Metagifted can't claim any such training. Look at Knock-out and how much damage she inadvertently caused with her enhanced strength. Omega realizes the benefits of formal training with local law enforcement, not just a select team of international metagifted. Both are helpful, but one needs balance. Supers don't always deal with a person who's immune to normal bullets, sometimes they deal with organizations such as HMOs that pay their doctors only 20 dollars for month for necessary tests for patients, and any more money comes out of that doctor's pocket. The doctor doesn't authorize tests that can save their patient's life, so they can pocket the extra money. Beating someone up doesn't solve that particular problem."
"There have been claims of McCarthyism in accusing anyone who disagrees with you is obviously a metahuman. Would you care to respond to that?" the host asks.
"We do not automatically label anyone a metahuman who disagrees with us. That's what's the First Amendment is all about. We tell our ideas to the world, and they can either disagree with us, agree with us, or not even read it." Lattrick is quite calm.
"What kind of regulations do you have in mind?" the host queries.
"We simply want supers who wish to participate in law enforcement to be licensed. Supers who just put on a costume, and use their powers blindly may have no way of knowing how much harm they are causing. People who wouldn't dream of running anyone down with a car think nothing of tossing a car into the street to stop a villain from escaping. A license would ensure that no such incidents happen as Halcyon's theft of Omega's capture, or the subsequent beating administered. People like Old Glory, Canadian Shield, the Protectorate, people feel safe around them because they know who to complain to. Civilians also know that the national teams have been trained by the government to not accidentally kill innocent bystanders," Lattrick responds.
"What about the fact that your pamphlets are incendiary for the anti-meta movement that seems to be swelling?" the host asks his final question for the interview.
"It's not incendiary. It's simply sensible to recognize danger of death and to minimize any actual casualties that may result from careless metas," Lattrick answers.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Lattrick. I'm sure you've relieved the feelings of metas who felt that they might have been hunted down in the manner of Nazi Germany hunting Jews. This is Supers Today, with Leroy Lattrick. Next is one of the Draughtsmen who has taken time out of their busy schedule to address the new anti-metahuman sentiment, and what may lie on the horizons. He, she, or it, has agreed in a spectacular coup of journalism since most national law enforcement agents refuse to be videotaped or photographed in any manner. He, she, or it did however specify that the armor was to be worn." Kappa shut down the recording.
******
The white mouse chattered angrily in the crystal ball.
"Do you think it has any idea we are assisting it's powers?" the hooded figure gazed into the scrying glass. Within it was a wavery image of white mouse and the laundromat. The presence of the white mouse to go somewhere where so much technology lay was a great boon to the order. Ordinary familiars could not be sent into such places. Bargains with the Chicago Sidhe were often not a good price to pay as well as vulnerable to cold iron. Native American spirits had gone into decline with the breaking of the Ghost Dance. They could cast through this new type of mouse, however, with it's intelligence, and it's mind was pathetically easy to manipulate with emotions, and reactions, rather than ratiocination. His master's response was typically reasonable and calculating. The control that had been woven around the mouse was a loose mesh to anyone with the skill to perceive the net, but a net all the same.
"If it is, it is either more powerful than you thought, or you are less skilled than you believe," his master clipped.
"If we could breed it with another mouse like it... we wouldn't have to hide from the world's technology. We could send lightning through it, disperse mind fogs. No household is immune from mice. They are easily manipulated, and excellent unwitting servants," the apprentice mumbled as he continued holding the image in the ball.
"We would also be undetected by the White Council. They have no tolerance for black mages. They only leave the grey mages alone because ten-on-one the weakest grey mages would win. They have no wish to lose over two hundred of their members to twenty of the grey's. If they cannot detect the spells we use in destroying the White Council, we may certainly use other resources," the black mage smiled a feral smile.
"The war between the Faerie is over, before we even knew of it, master. What resources?" the apprentice wanted to know.
"Do not concern yourself. Your image is shaking. You should not let your concentration be allowed to be broken." The image was breaking up. As soon as the apprentice refocused on it, the image steadied, and they looked in upon the laundromat.
******
"Okay. I've been through this a dozen times. There's absolutely nothing here except an unpacked load of laundry," the fat guy complained."It's a laundromat. You expect to find laundry here," the skinny guy retorted.
"I don't know. Just when I signed up for this gig, I expected more magic than just digging around in laundries," the fat guy grumbled to the skinny guy.
"Hey, now. We did get some magic, didn't we?"
"Big deal. A bunch of laws of magic that the boss told us was completely wrong, and that she left the most important one out," the fat guy added to his list of complaints.
"Hey, at least we know there are laws. That's more than a lot of uninitiated know. They wouldn't expect us to know it," the skinny guy pointed out.
"Oh, that's right. We are initiated, aren't we? Hey, why would anyone think we know the mysteries of magic?" the fat guy asks.
"Because they'd figure a couple of boneheads like us were simply being conned by a metahuman," the skinny guy said cheerfully.
"Oh, that's right. You've got some brain there," the fat guy says excitedly.
"Thanks. I try my best." The skinny guy takes a bow.
******
"Are these people actually related to the human race?" the apprentice asked disgustedly."They are quite useful for our purposes. The energy bestowed upon them through our mouse conduit amplifies any spells we may cast through them. It also reinforces the bonds we have upon them, and weakens the natural technological resistance against magic," the master reasons coldly.
"Master, if technology and magic cancel each other, why is Hex able to use magic and technology?" the apprentice asks.
"Because she isn't using magic. She's using chaos theory to determine which action is the most profitable in any given situation and can calculate over a billion scenarios per second to determine which action will cause someone the most harm or the most benefit," the master replies frigidly. The apprentice thinks for a moment.
"Isn't that what mages do as well?" the apprentice manages not to notice the wintry expression gathering on his master's face.
"No. We summon demons, engage in sacrificial energy releases, and conserve energy to be released in a variety of effects," the master replies. "That is enough practice in scrying. It is time to return our lesson in thresholds."
******
"Well, looks like there's nothing here. The energy trace is fading, look. The infernal energy trace is fading, although the other one was gone within a few minutes," the skinny guy pokes around."Hey, at least we found something. We can report back to that person who was wearing a really long coat, who managed to hide us from the local mobsters," the fat guy said cheerfully. He was anticipating not being in any danger, especially those which are caused by lead poisoning, such as bullets through internal organs.
"Yeah, you'd think they'd be a little more lenient when it comes to redistribution of wealth. They accused us of loaded dice. It was their own dice!" the skinny guy sounded mildly injured by the accusation. "I'm skilled enough not to need to load dice."
******
"Mvrs. Why did you not tell me about the socks project?" Balsera waits for the answer, black wings, red eyes, waiting on the servitor's answer."I thought perhaps-" Mvrs was cut off.
"You did not think. Did you not realize that if anyone stumbled onto you, you would have been found ruining the plot to destroy the world by hoping that the side of Light would create more socks, and therefore cause an imbalance accelerating entropy?" Balsera sneers.
"It was out in the desert. The chances were so remote, the atom bomb was tested there-" Mvrs' sentences are growing increasingly frantic. Unlike Klsyfrx, the most forgiving general of the supernaturals fighting in the cause, Balsera was the most dangerous to its own servants.
"I think, perhaps, I have been too lenient. Maybe a lesson in not attracting attention would come in handy, rather than obliterating you out of hand. You have, after all, served quite well in understanding technology. Perhaps it's time you were purged of its corrupting influence, at least enough to understand the principle of subterfuge."
Balsera pronounced the true name of the bat-winged creature and sentence.
"I'm going to serve on every day as a goldfish in a mortal laboratory?" the demon asked tremulously. It was quite a sight better than it had hoped for.
"Not only that, you will be visible in demon form from Good Friday to Easter. If you survive the first fifty years, I shall consider elevating you back to your former status," Balsera said negligibly.
Balsera smiled, satisfied, at the howl of despair that dwindled as it was immediately sent away.
******
Mvrs knew it was the death sentence. Serving as a goldfish is fine, it lets a bat-winged creature learn patience, which it had already mastered. No, the true cruelty was the fact that it had only until Good Friday to live. Imagine if you will, that angels exist, and they did absolutely nothing while their beloved God was incarnated and executed, in one of the most horrible ways imaginable. Now imagine, that the angels did nothing, didn't even know their boss was being executed in one of the most painful ways imaginable. Now imagine the regret they feel, every year, when that particular day rolls around. No sane evil supernatural is out on that particular day, as hordes of angels descend to work out their catharsis on any such being. Supernaturals such as angels and demons cannot harm humans physically. Angels don't hurt angels either. So they're working out their regret on demon-hunting. Most evil supernaturals on this plane keep their heads down, don't make waves, and avoid broadcasting their true nature. Of course, there's always the hope that the angels won't notice and it usually works for a year or two. It's never worked for an evil supernatural to survive fifty years. In one stroke, Balsera has managed to give a death sentence, and false hope to return to Mvrs' previous status.******
My powers were opened to me. I was having a bit of a hard time with winds buffeting me about, bubbling desert sand on the ground, the fact that the fire spirit had somehow conjured intricately colored insects crawling out of my mouth, and all over my skin, and that I had no spring water to hand to spray on the fire spirit. I was risen up, slammed down, risen up, slammed down, risen up, slammed down. I finally got my mind enough together enough with the pain to strain against being used a jack-in-the-box.The Rooster was what was currently abating my rendition of a drum solo. Strength doesn't mean a thing when you're literally twisting in the wind through a telekinetic struggle. Flame vision would only add to my opponent's power. Speed is about as useful as strength in this situation. I turned invisible. The fire elemental dropped me, and I landed about as gracefully as I could. I was using snake which fools both light and heat at least as the fire spirit was using it.
"Heat sense doesn't see him. Neither does any visible light rays," the fire spirit muttered.
"Hmm." The fire spirit had nothing to grab onto. No infrared imaging was possible with the power of invisibility.
"Maybe he teleported?" The stone spirit, and the giant chicken were suitably impressed by the raw display of power and skill. I was most definitely impressed, as attested to my various bruises, broken bones, and other remnants of the ride I had as I slammed into the ground at 9.8 meters squared per second per second. Healing combined with Invisibility was quickly turning them into faded memories. I've heard that Omega's healing consists of modified white blood cells. Mine is of a different sort, more like a knitting together of flesh and bone with stimulation of enough endorphin production in a system to neutralize the pain while the person's healing. I suppose it can be described as micromolecular vitakinesis.
******
"He may have, but we do not yet know if he possesses that power. Let us assume he is here. If he is not here, then nothing we do will matter. So we should assume he is here," the fire elemental growls. A logical fire elemental, will wonders (and inconveniences) never cease?"Onetsu, Tiiba, take up the other points of the triangle," the fire elemental directs. At least I know what they're called now. I'm getting really bad vibrations though, as Onetsu and Tiiba pound and waddle respectively to their assigned positions. It gets even worse when a beam of fire strikes Onetsu. The next beam is one of Tiiba to the fire elemental, and that's one of those purple rays. There's only one side left open. That's where it gets interesting. I leap before the gap closes, and I manage to trip. I'm inside a triangle boxed in three dimensions on a two-dimensional prison. The interesting thing is, the three of them can't seem to find me.
"I thought you're supposed to be able to pick up the triangle once the imprisonment is finished," Onetsu pointed out.
"You are!" Tiiba said, frustrated. "It worked on a wizard over a thousand years ago."
"This person isn't a wizard. Not yet. He's...something that should not exist," Klsyfrx said ominously.
"It trapped something!" Tiiba said. Klsyfrx nodded.
"Indeed. You have succeeded in trapping something. Therefore, you must find it," Klsyfrx said magnanimously. "I estimate it will only take you a few decades."
Oh, great. I'm going obviously going to be missing dinner for a little while longer.
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