=== BABW: A New Conflict ===
=== Chapter 38: Counter-Clash ===
[ April 09, 2082 -- Summit Domed Community, New Jersey, USA – SPH Research Lab #4 ]
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It was a quiet March evening underneath the Dome that maintained the climate (in general) of the town of Summit in New Jersey. Like a lot of towns near large metro areas, the population experienced extreme gentrification over the last few decades, to where it was extraordinarily difficult to find anyone who you could consider less than wealthy living under the Domes without being an employee of someone of far greater net worth. However, the focus should not be on the coming and goings of the typical Dome-dwelling person, at least not in this instance. Instead it is about the comings and goings of a specific research complex recently built in this particular domed community, and how a certain Black Shield intend to put it at the forefront of their counterattack against the Alliance and their hangers-on.
“So this guy is supposed to be one of the recruits to use the ‘Blue Engine’?” one of the SPH officers asked of a much-younger-than-middle aged looking African-American woman, standing with pride as she continued to beam in her less than one-month’s old officer’s uniform.
This is perfect… why waste someone like me on the front line when I am much better used directing men to do what needs to be done… Linda thought to herself on the side, as she made to answer her fellow officer’s question. “Indeed. His name is Jeffrey, and from what we can tell, he has natural aptitude with manipulating water-aspected mana in particular, and hydromancy at large.”
As the two long-coat wearing officers looked at the young man of clear African descent, barely past 21, in the waiting room of the hall that the testing was conducted in, they thought aloud about his apparent origins.
“Apparently he was part of the foster system for some time, until he was about 10, no telling what type of insanity he had to endure as a small child,” the other officer said, as Linda couldn’t help but stare at the man who was almost 30 years her junior, even if it didn’t appear that way from looking at both of their faces.
“No, no telling at all. There doesn’t seem to be any kind of psychological issue in his profile, and nothing has shown up in the interviews we have conducted. Other than having been in a foster home for his early childhood, his upbringing is pretty typical of any Outsider of his age,” Linda continued to remark.
She couldn’t shake an odd feeling however… a feeling of familiarity at a visceral level, even though she hadn’t laid eyes on the young man until the last couple of days when he was transferred from the one of the sundry Mid-Atlantic offices to the Research Facility she called her place of employ for the time being.
Who is this ‘kid’, and why does it feel like I should know him, even though I couldn’t have before now. Perhaps this is a side effect of all the magic we’ve been using, who knows…
Linda cleared her head as she continued to observe the almost childlike glee in the face of Jeffrey as he manipulated about a half liter of water he had taken from the large dispenser in the waiting room. At the same time, she noted how the handful of other soldiers and recruits around him seemed to be in equal awe watching as he instinctively manipulated the water in mid-air; the only trace that he was using magic to do so a few moderately glowing blue runes on his hands.
“I can see why we the higher-ups wanted him in in the Blue Group. He seems to have a natural affinity for hydromancy,” Linda remarked, as she took the papers and entered the waiting room. “Though I find it odd what he told us in his interviews.”
“I assume the story of him not being aware of his potential for magecraft until after the attack in Charlotte?” the other officer responded.
“Yes. Developing abilities that fast without someone else to teach you says a lot about him, hopefully we can mold him into a fine soldier, maybe more,” Linda replied, as she entered the waiting room, drawing the attention of everyone inside, especially Jeffrey himself.
“Alston!” Linda barked like a seasoned military officer, as Jeffrey immediately came to attention and stood before her.
“Yes ma’am!” Jeffrey responded with firmness, knowing that this was official business that Ofc. Bowman was about to conduct with him.
“I have the report for your thaumaturgy tests. Congratulations Recruit, you have been selected to be enlisted in the pilot program for our Hydromancer Corps,” Linda reported with some measure of pride.
“That’s great, ma’am. I want to contribute any way that I can…” Jeffrey said, before his demeanor suddenly turned dark. “Those goddamned monsters… it’s all their fault. All their fault everything is screwed up. All their fault everything is teetering on chaos...”
Oh that’s good… he has an extreme sense of motivation. Just need to temper it somehow… Linda thought to herself, as she could feel the strength welling in Jeffrey's voice.
“And then those White Knights… they’re just as bad, colluding with them even. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think those bastards wanted that Nightmare monster to attack Charlotte so they’d make you all look incompetent – and then they could just swoop in and save the day,” Jeffrey continued, as it was clear that his anger was starting to boil. “I’ll never forgive them, the monsters or those damned fake Knights, destroying my home, killing my family… all of it is their fault. And I’ll use any means I can get my hands on to make sure they pay ten times over for all of this hurt I’ve felt in the last year!”
Linda put her hand on the shoulder of Jeffrey to calm him in some sense, as she pointed toward a pair of chairs in the waiting room and motioned for the two of them to sit down. “The rest of this conversation, just consider me a fellow traveller and not a superior officer.”
“O…kay?” Jeffrey said nervously.
“Listen, I believe your motivation is admirable. But, let me run this by you: don’t you think there is more to your sudden discovery of your talents with hydromancy?” Linda started.
“More… I… I just remember feeling this vague… voice telling me to grab at the power that could change the world. Kinda sounded like myself, like something inside of me was informing the rest of me of what I could do. Next thing I know, as I was in the recovery shelter, parts of my skin looked like it had been tattooed in blue magic symbols or something, and I could control things that were liquid at room temperature: you know water, rubbing alcohol, all that kind of stuff,” Jeffrey thought aloud, as he thought of how he first realized he had a knack of water manipulation.
“Now, I’m not sure if you are a religious person, so you will have to bear with me,” Linda started, not wanting to off put a potential star recruit with unwarranted preaching. “But I believe that in that aftermath, you were blessed by the Almighty with that power.”
“Hrm…” Jeffrey said; not immediately rejecting or accepting the brief supposition by his superior, but merely ruminating on it in the moment.
“His ways are mysterious, and there is nothing to say the powers that have been developed in this last year-plus are all unrelated to Him. But as I said, that is merely my personal opinion, don’t take it as anything official from my superiors or the Leadership of the Society,” Linda concluded before returning to her main point. “What I am trying to get at is… this power, your power, our power… we have the ability to truly shape the world in the image that we have been told.”
Jeffrey nodded, seeing where Officer Linda was coming with these remarks.
“The monsters, the aliens, their collaborators… all of them are mere obstacles to be overcome. And once we do, then we will have the space to rebuild this world into a true Paradise. The world we were always promised, we can attain it by our hands. All we have to do is reach out for our tools and start building,” Linda concluded.
“And let me guess, these research centers are where we are designing the tools for this construction project?” Jeffrey asked of the black-coated woman seemingly only six-to-ten years his senior.
“In a manner of speaking…” Linda replied, with a bit of coy in her voice.
Jeffrey *hrmph*ed in agreement, as he resolved himself for his new future. “Miss Bowman, I’m ready to put everything I am on the line for the Society. And I’ll be the best damn carpenter you’ve ever seen.”
“Glad to hear it, Mr. Alston,” Linda said, as she shook the hand of the newest member of Project Therion.
= A short while later, in one of the complex’s commissaries =
“And that's how I ended up here. All this time I've been trying to figure out how I can do something to help get rid of these monsters plaguing our world, and our turns out it was right here in front of my face the whole time,” Jeffrey said as he and another ‘enlisted’ discussed things after a recent briefing.
“Ever since that whole jailbreak in the capital a month ago it's been a total mess for us. But I'm glad we got people like you on our side,” the other man said as they continued their conversation on the way to a commissary.
The two of them sat down at a table, facing each other as the earlier conversation indeed continued.
“The thing I don't understand is - why Convert on the first place?” the dark skinned man mused rhetorically.
“Jeffrey, you know they got all kinds of psycho-babble bs to try and justify it to themselves. But if ask me they’re just cowards,” the fair skinned man offered as explanation, despite the nature of the question.
“So you really think they ran off because they were scared, Grant?” Jeffrey wondered in a bit of passive response.
“Pfft. Of course I think that. All the hell we've been through as a people, and then at First Contact they literally tell you they are going to turn you into copies of themselves, or whatever, and your response isn't ‘Hell no, get the fuck outta here!’?” Grant started; Jeffrey observing how worked up the fair skinned man of Western European descent was becoming as he continued. “Aguillar deserved far worse than house arrest for that bullshit, and I hope I’m part of the crew that finds her.”
“That's assuming she hasn't run off across the Barrier already,” Jeffrey noted.
“Now wouldn't that be something. Would certainly make Leadership’s job easier if that were true, but I doubt Madame President would be so kind,” Grant figured as he shrugged his shoulders. “So where are they sticking you after your aptitude tests?”
“Something about the Blue Division, apparently I have a real talent for hydromancy, so they want me in the crew that’s going to be using the Blue Engines,” Jeffrey replied, as he brought it up on his e-paper tablet.
“Isn’t that something? They’re putting me in the Gold Division. Looks like we’re in similar boats, just they think I’m more suited for air-magic than water,” Grant replied, as he showed his tablet with a similar documentation, just swapping references for water-related things to air and wind-related things.
“So, I know where you’re goin’ Grant, but how’d you get here?” Jeffrey asked, as he thought about the man about 5 years his senior in front of him.
“God, man, where to begin. Well I’m here because I more or less deserted the Air Force during the first go around with those aliens,” Granted started, as Jeffrey listened intently. “Yeah, I know President Aguillar did the whole song and dance with them, going on about how they were coming in for peace, love, understanding, the whole nine and whatever. But honestly, when their first real major act once they got here was to starting turning Humans into themselves, what exactly am I supposed to think about it?”
“I can’t think anything good about it, myself,” Jeffrey figured, as Grant nodded in agreement.
“Exactly. When it became apparent to me that Aguillar not only knew what was going on, but was down with it, that told me everything I needed to know. I took an oath, to protect this country against all enemies, foreign and domestic. To know that we had been invaded by something about as foreign as it gets, and then to know that people in the government were colluding with them, including the Commander-In-Chief? What the hell am I doing under anything that resembles their command? Why in the hell aren’t like… 90% of the public in arms demanding they go back to where they come, lest they have to fight off all nine billion of us?” Grant went on, Jeffrey nodding in agreement at the rant.
“At this point, all I know is that either those Winged Pegasi have either brainwashed a lot of the population, or our civilization has rotted out to the point to where people would just throw away their own humanity at the first given chance. Either one doesn’t sound like a world that I can live in,” Grant figured, as it was clear to Jeffrey as it was to any officer in the Society that Grant was deadly serious when he brought up those points. “So I plan to do something about it. Knocking off the governments was just the start to me. The rot goes deeper, right down to the very base of our population. They either need to be shown the correct path… or they need to find some way to get out of the way, lest they get knocked out of the way.”
“Grant, I’m feeling everything you’re saying. But you know where that goes right? If we got that much of our population who won’t defend their own humanity, what’s going to happen when as we keep fighting those aliens?” Jeffrey asked, wanting to hear if Grant was going as far as Jeff thought he was.
“I’ll put it to you like this: if they don’t accept the new Humanity that we are building, then they are going to leave this world, one way, or another,” Grant said with all the gravitas he could muster.
“Damn man, it’s that serious to you?” Jeffrey responded, deeply intrigued by the depths to which Grant was willing to take the whole issue.
“I’m as serious as cardiac arrest with no defibrillator,” Grant responded plainly.
[ Around the same time, in South-Central Colorado, USA @ the Federal Correctional Institute[3] near Florence ]
“It’s coming to this point already? What you are proposing is completely reckless and dangerous, and I for one cannot accede to the this request without making my objection publically known,” a snappily uniformed man said as man in charcoal gray business suit stood before him, his patience clearly wearing thin with the man in charge of the facility.
“Listen, Warden Covington. I understand your position, I truly do. You house in this facility the most dangerous men and women as determined by the United States Department of Justice in terms of danger not only to any potential staff, but to other prisoners, and even to themselves. To that end, the current government of this fine country would like to at least make… use… of a particular woman, seeing as she has shown herself quite an exemplar in the realm of, oh how to put this, granting wishes,” the man in the charcoal gray suit said to the prison warden, trying to assuage the warden’s trepidation to an acceptable degree.
“Even if I refused, you would just break her out, wouldn’t you?” Warden Covington surmised, as he looked at the SPH soldiers that were in the back of the room, seemingly ready to move on a lone signal from the gray-suited man seated at the conference table with the Warden.
“Of course a prison warden would be one of the most observant of people; but yes, there is a team ready to extract our lamp if you decide not to heed our request,” the man in the suit said, the implication clear in his voice.
Damn, he’s not bluffing either. My guards reported all kinds of SPH equipment being rolled in, and I know damn well I don’t have enough firepower to eject them if I say no, that and I don’t have a way to contact those rebels otherwise… the warden thought, as he figured the hand he was playing wasn’t worth continuing with.
“If you want the genie so badly, then you can have her. Honestly I’m feeling far more sympathy for her than I should have any right to, given what we have to do to keep her under control…” the warden said, as he turned to the side, trying his best to hide his disgust at what he was about to allow to happen.
“Now now, good sir, don’t be that way…” the charcoal-suited man said, as he stood up, understanding what was being unsaid by the warden. “Here, this is on me, a bit of compensation and something to calm the nerves.”
The charcoal-suited man left a simple-looking card on the table, as he and the SPH soldiers exited the warden’s office to collect the genie that he had come to liberate, in a sense.
“There is absolutely nothing that can come of this that's good,” Covington thought aloud as he twirled the cred-card between his fingers. “And all of this to preserve some money. Maybe the Princesses were right about us.”
[ April 11, 2082 -- SPH Research Facility, Colorado Springs, CO, United States ]
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“I can't help but feel a little sympathetic toward her. Such a wonderful specimen of a woman being kept in stasis like this. It seems unfair…” one of the black clad lab workers said as they continued to monitor the encapsulated woman’s vitals.
“Roses and thorns my good man. You heard the story behind why she was put in there?” the other lab worker asked, his attitude more practical regarding the package that had been recently delivered.
“No, I hadn't,” the other worker replied.
As they were discussing matters, an officer from the SPHs Rocky Mountain division walked in. “Ms. Jeanne Javadi, age 31, of partial Iranian and French descent. Was convicted 2 years ago of 10 counts of 1st degree murder, 15 counts of grand theft, totalling 376 million credits. 12 counts of fraud, totalling 510 million credits. Granted she was anything but working alone; but still, incredibly proficient in the proverbial dark arts.”
“Ok, so why is she in that pod?” one of the lab techs asked of the officer.
“I would love to tell that little story, but I think she can tell it better,” the officer said, as he ran his fingers across one of the panels on the pod.
“Access granted! Please speak the final pass word,” a monotone female voice uttered from a small speaker on the pod.
“Open Sesame!“ the officer said with a bit of chuckle. After a few moments, the pod opened with a hiss.
“Ugh, where the hell am I…?” the woman inside said as she awakened a few moments later, as if she had merely woken up from a nap and not from 6 months of stasis.
“Madame, there is a lot to discuss,” the officer said with a deviant glint in his eye.
-----
“And I was like ‘If you don't let me out of here, I’ll burn this entire place to nothing!’” Jeanne said, as she drunk a nearly boiling hot cup of coffee. “Of course the warden wasn't hearing that, and the next thing I know there is tranq in my neck, and I'm out of consciousness until just now.”
One of the lab techs rubbed his throat as he watched drink her coffee. “How? I don't get how you can hold anything that hot, let alone drink it.”
“I dunno myself. I just realized it after that Day of the Black Sky, my body became a lot more resistant to heat damage, let alone the fact that I can conjure fire like out of some kind of fantasy game. I mean of course I’d try to take advantage of that. You think I want to spend the rest of my life rotting in a max-security prison, no sir. And of course, as far as Justice is concerned, they were going to move Heaven and Earth to make sure someone like little ol’ me couldn’t get out to wreak havoc. Fat lot of good that did them in the end, right?” Jeanne said as she continued to drink her coffee.
“To that end, Miss Pahlavi, I want to offer you a position in the SPH proper, as part of our Red Division,” the officer said, as he put out a preliminary contract in front of the recently freed prisoner.
“Hrm, let’s see… judging by your name and my reputation, this Red Corps is fire-magic related?” Jeanne figured, as she looked through the surprisingly simple language of the contract.
“Indeed, miss. We are looking for good men and women who can help up develop magecraft and technology related to pyro-mana, and of course, the right souls who can use such things,” the officer replied.
“Anything to get me out of that damn prison, and to get back at all the people who put me there. I can’t even forget their faces at my sentencing. Putting a fair princess like me, in a prison cell? TO ROT FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE?! No, I cannot accept that, and I won't accept a world where that is all there is for me. I’d sooner see everything turned to smoldering ash, than be put in a 6’x8’ again for any amount of time.” Jeanne said, the anger in her face was quite evident to the other three in the room.
“Madame Pahlavi, you do right by us, and we will make quite the allowance for you to exact whatever revenge you feel will satiate you, or really do whatever else you want, to be quite frank,” the officer said, as he gently pointed back at the contract.
“Hrm, especially since you were so kind as to arrange for my release, how could I say no to such an arrangement,” Jeanne said as she signed the contract, formally making her part of the SPH’s growing magi-corps.
“Now of course we will provide you with the best of lodging and accommodations. But in accordance with your contract, you will mostly be interacting with the Southern Atlantic Seaboard Branch of the Reznokov Family,” the officer said, as he tapped a button on his compu-pad to send the copy of the signed documents back to the SPHs main servers.
“Hrm, I remember the last job I had been formally requested for was from the Reznokovs, though it was the Northern Atlantic Branch that time. Can you say why they want me operating from the South?” Jeanne asked of her contact-come-commanding-officer.
“They don’t want to say, apparently they want some level of separation with you getting caught and them having to burn a couple of their ‘officers’ to keep the main heads of the organization secure,” the officer replied.
“That figures…” Jeanne said, as she let some of the ambient red mana arc between her fingers. “The things I am going to do to that woman if I ever see her again… I had such a good thing going with my crew, and now we are, or at least were up the river or worse.”
“It is a new day Madame Pahlavi. Once we crush these little rebellions and drive the aliens back to whatever dimension they came from, we will have free reign to do what we will. You can have a castle, servants, the whole nine; we just need your talents, energy, and devotion to make it happen,” the officer replied, as he set up the com-link in his implants to the Reznokov’s offices in New Miami.
“The consider your wish granted,” the woman of French and Iranian descent replied, the devious glint on her face putting a chill into the lab technicians working alongside the officer in SPH’s labs.
[ Again, at the roughly same time, in Aomori, Japan ]
It was a quite early evening in the north of Honshu Island, the main island, if you will, of the Japanese archipelago. A very imposing figure of a woman sat by herself in a more-or-less private booth of a quiet restaurant near the Domes of Aomori, the most northern of the wealthy communities in the homeland proper. She sat there, as if she expected someone, and some things, though none of the other patrons would approach the imposing figure she cast: her jet black hair, almost permanent scowl, and a build that would have frightened most other people - her almost 160 lbs of muscle intimidating all those who saw her in the flesh, save a precious relative few.
“You know who she is?” one of the few patrons in the restaurant said as tried their best not to look like they were staring at a woman who looked cut out of a manga, save for impossible hairstyle.
“Yeah, they call her the Beast-Queen of the Cage; ever since she debuted like 3 years ago she’s been not just undefeated in the cage fights in the Circuit[4], but she’s beaten her opponents in less than 30 seconds in most of her matches,” the man eating with first patron replied.
“What was her name again? I think it was Kumajo…” the first patron wondered.
“I don’t think that’s her real name, but almost everyone, even the announcers call her that, so it stuck,” the second patron replied.
“It’s a fine name, don’t you think?” the aforementioned Kumajo stated in her deep, firm voice - one that seemed to exude confidence and, to those of soft will, dominance.
“Yes. Kumajo is a fine name, I may name my next daughter after it,” the second patron replied nervously, as the two patrons at the table could feel the presence of Kumajo when all she was doing was merely looking at them with neutral intent.
The first of the patrons continued to eat nervously with the other until they were sure, at least to themselves, Kumajo’s attention was elsewhere.
“You know what the rumors have been going around in the last couple of months…” the first said in a soft voice, trying to stay under the radar of the musclebound woman sitting 20 or so feet away from them.
“Yeah, they say she’s been under investigation for doping, but they haven’t found a test that even comes close to giving a positive hit for any of the common performance enhancers,” the second said, as he kept his voice low as well, not realizing that Kumajo could indeed hear both of them.
“I’ve heard worse than that.. I heard that now they are trying to investigate her for some kind of augment. Something that wouldn’t show up on a X-Ray or MRI-” the first started before the two felt a pair of very firm hands and forearms, one of each of their outside shoulders.
“Sirs, I could always give you all a demonstration of my natural talent if you’d like…” Kumajo stated with a firm gentleness that was masking a terrifying rage as she absolutely hated any assertion of having unnaturally gained her physique and skill in unarmed combat.
The two men began to sweat in a manner that was obvious to anyone observing, including the manager of the establishment, who did not want a sudden MMA ‘match’ to break out in the middle of his restaurant, especially given the guests he was soon to receive. “Ma’am, I would greatly appreciate it if you refrained from physically harming the rest of our patronage, as justified as your anger is in this moment.”
“We agree, Miss Kumajo. Conducting business over the moans of broken bodies would be a touch unseemly for the circumstances,” a trio of black-suited, arm-band wearing men said, holding a briefcase and small projector-computer.
“Sirs, is it time?” the manager of the restaurant asked one of the men, as he and the other workers all gathered near the entrance to look at the nationally renowned cage-fighter and the organization in apparent control of the country.
“Yes, the New Imperial Dawn humbly requests use of this restaurant to conduct negotiations with the one named Kumajo,” the first of the black-suited men stated with a firm resoluteness.
“Well I have no objections,” the manager said, as began ordering everyone out of the main dining area.
“That is good, because if you did have an objection, we may have had to apply our usual methods of… persuasion,” the second man said, as he snickered a bit.
“NO! No that won’t be necessary, see our patronage is already taking their leave!” the manager said, the anxiety in his voice becoming evident to everyone there.
Everyone eating and drinking quickly got the hint, as some of them could see the thauma-guns the third was holding underneath the suitcoat he was wearing.
A few minutes later, the dining area and the kitchen was completely clear of all but the four principles of negotiation - Kumajo and the three men representing the New Imperial Dawn.
“It seems like you have an offer for me, yes?” Kumajo asked, as she sat at one of the tables, bemused by the three suited men before her.
“Yes, miss. We would like to hire you in service for the New Imperial Dawn as a… contractor, if you will,” the lead negotiator replied.
“More like mercenary, but that’s a pendantic argument,” Kumajo corrected, already in some understanding of how the NID operated, hiring outsiders to itself or the SPH proper in order to give them some buffer in case an operation went sour.
“Contractor, mercenary, the exact terms you give yourself don’t matter to us. We just wanna pay you to help us clamp down on people like the Midnight Blossom. They’re working with the HEA and trying to bring that colluding government back into power, or at least eject us from our positions,” the second man elaborated.
“And why should I care about whomever claims that they are running this country? It’s not like anyone in the government or your organization has done anything for my benefit,” Kumajo replied with a stern tone, trying to be as polite as she could given who was standing in front of her.
“There is a rumor going around, Miss Kumajo. A rumor that goes something along the lines of your sponsors in the Circuit having trouble keeping you in their proverbial stable,” the third man said, as Kumajo’s eyes narrowed.
“Oh right, not only that, your fellow ladies in your weight class fear for their careers, and possibly their lives when they agree to a match with you. I mean, you can only wrestle bears for so long before your body breaks, right?” the second man added.
“What do I care? If those so-called women are too afraid to step in the cage with me, then I’m obviously the best female fighter on this entire damned chain of islands!” Kumajo exclaimed, as the three negotiators had clearly struck a nerve with the normally calm and reserved woman.
“You know as well as anyone: a fighter only has worth so long as she has an opponent. If no one is willing to sponsor you, nor is willing to fight you, I could only imagine the difficulty you’d have in maintaining your lifestyle,” the third man said, as he and the rest of the NID representatives figured they had a leverage point over Kumajo for whatever else they might need of her.
Kumajo sighed in frustration, as she found the assertions of the three negotiators correct. Damn, they’re right. At this rate I’ll be living in the slums again, this time to stay. I told myself ever since that day I would never set foot in those towers of poverty and ambivalence again…
“On the other hand, prove yourself to us like you have to the Circuit, and you won’t want for material possessions or resources ever again,” the first man stated confidently.
It’s at least eight months until my next scheduled match; I guess I can do this for them to keep money coming into the bank account. Not exactly what I’d think of an optimal side job, but at this point cash is cash… Kumajo thought to herself.
“Fine, show me what I need to sign in order to get this over with, and where I need to be for… whatever you need to get done,” she then replied aloud, as she resolved to at least try something, and letting the chips fall where they may.
A few moments later, a contract was produced, stating all the preliminary information at Kumajo would need to know as a contractor for the New Imperial Dawn. The first man recorded her signature and thumbprint, and shook her hand as firmly he could manage given the musculature difference between the two.
“You will not regret this decision, Miss … oh I think I might have heard this name before… can’t remember where though…” the second man started, before he read the name signed in triplicate on the e-paper that the contract was displayed on.
“My name may be my name, but I am my own woman,” Kumajo stated, as she stared a glare of ill intent into the eyes of the second negotiator.
“It’s no consequence to us either way. We only ask that you do what we ask of you, and you will be compensated duly,” the first negotiator said, seeing that their business was concluded; though his mind trailed off to a different, but related point.
“There will be a meeting in a couple of weeks’ time with representatives from the main branch of the SPH though… It seems word has gotten out about your, recently developed skillset. Something about a body that never seems to come down off a physical peak, right?”
Kumajo looked dead at the first man in the black suit, not sure what he was driving at but mad at the implication that her gifts were anything but natural.
“Miss, I don’t think you need to beat around the bush with us - the rate at which your body produces muscle and bone is far beyond what any human should without extremely specific training and assistance. Yet you found yourself developing muscles as powerful as any predator, bones hard as steel, and ligaments and joints flexible and resilient as nanofiber cables. Or to put it a different way, it is as if a supernatural power were specifically molding you into a warrior-goddess incarnate, if you forgive the poetic flourish. All of this… without ever so much as walking into a health clinic, let alone a surgeon’s office. One would rightly call you, at least if they didn’t understand the subtleties of the power that’s filling the world, a miracle of human development and growth, possibly of evolution itself,” the first negotiator said, as he sat in a chair directly across from Kumajo, meeting her stare with one of his own.
“Do you mean to imply something sprinkled fairy dust or the like on me, and all of a sudden I’ve become a hulking figure?” Kumajo stated, a growl to her voice as her anger was growing to a point she couldn’t restrain nearly as easily as before.
“No, nothing so obvious. The power that is filling this world is much more subtle, we believe, than just casting spells of the four fantasy powers. Though… one could reason the power to improve and grow the body as representing Earth itself, in both the sense of the ground and the planet,” the first negotiator replied.
Kumajo snorted in frustration, as she tried to release the emotional tension that had been building on her the last few minutes. “Whatever you want to think. Just tell me wherever this meeting is supposed to take place, so I can fulfill my contract. The only thing I care about right now is that my bank account stays deep in the black.”
“And that is perfectly fine Miss Kumajo, in any case, the meeting will be held here, and you will need to present this docu-slip to the doorman. I believe more things should become clear once you’ve had a chance to talk with our superiors and the representatives from the Americas,” the first negotiator said as he handed Kumajo a pair of e-paper slips; after which the three negotiators packed their things and began to leave so the manager could resume business.
[ April 16, 2082 -- SPH Headquarters, Manhattan Domes, USA ]
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“It appears that Project Therion is well underway, Leader-1,” now-Captain Linda Bowman reported directly to Peter, or Leader-1 as far as she knew, as she made her first report after completing the SPH’s Officer School as it was known internally.
“Thank you, also I wish to congratulate you Officer, or rather, Captain Bowman. I should hope that your efforts and results will match the title that we have conferred upon you,” Leader-1 stated, his red mask glistening in the low-powered light of the room he was broadcasting from on his end.
“Yes sir, I will do everything in my power to live up to the title that you all have given me, and to build a world of, by, and most especially for humans,” Linda replied in acknowledgement, gently and briefly bowing as she did.
“Also, I see that your course of Rejuvinus has had quite the effect on your visage and physique,” Leader-1 said, noticing how the woman looked a sight different than her file photo from when she first signed up over a year ago.
“I… appreciate it sir. I’m just glad that the chemists in our employ were able to find such a fine set of compounds. I would dare say that I feel healthier now than I did when I was actually the age that I look,” Linda replied, a bit confused at the praise of her physical presence, but deciding not to press the question any further than what courtesy would dictate.
“We must be examples for all people - and in all respects. We are building a new world, for a new humanity. If we do not live up to the principles that we have stated, then what good are we as the vanguard of this New Era?” Leader-1 thought aloud, not noticing, or really caring for the consternation that Cpt. Linda felt in that moment.
“We wouldn’t be of any good; we’d just be another organization who thought they could conquer the world, and nothing more,” Linda responded, showing Leader-1 she had been in contemplation of the ethics and overall morality of their venture in her down.
“It seems like you have quite the head on your shoulders, Miss Bowman. Keep thinking like that, and keep up your efforts in the field, and you will find yourself moving up in the world,” Leader-1 responded, as he cut the link - signaling the report of the newly christened captain was over.
“Right… all of this for a new world right? What good is it if the taint of humanity is not resolved?” Linda thought to herself, as she sat in the chair that sat in the modest ‘office’ she gained as a named captain. “Not only that, they’ve never found Andrew’s body. How can I move on with my life overall if I cannot completely bury my past. And that thing that claimed to be my son. That vile blue creature made so many claims that day, then grew into that veritable nightmare, but after that, absolutely nothing. No evidence he was even there, let alone what he did. There are still too many questions surrounding myself before I even think about moving up in this organization beyond this point.”
“Captain Bowman, I was just sent to tell you that there is a staff officer’s meeting in a couple of hours, so might want to get yourself ready,” Jeffrey said, as he popped his head into the officer whose door was left wide open.
I need to remember I have a door I can close before I really get myself in trouble… Cpt. Linda thought to herself as she found herself staring at Jeffrey yet again. And what is with this kid? Every time I look at him there is this subtle familiarity I should recognize, but I can’t. I hate it when I have these feelings I can’t completely define…
“Alright, I was done with my report to the Leadership anyway. So that Mister Grant you met has been sent on his way?” Linda asked of the recruit-now-member who she had met almost a week previous.
“Yeah, his tests checked out for aeromancy, so they’re sending him to the facility near Chicago,” Jeffrey responded.
“Ok, so, what are you doing, aside from bringing me that message?” Linda asked of Jeffrey.
“Taking advantage of some of the VR Simulator machines. Since I’m part of the Society, I figure I have to be ready to pull my weight no matter what I’m asked to do, right?” Jeffrey replied.
“I see. Keep up that enthusiasm, but don’t lose sight of why you’re here, along with everyone else,” Linda replied with a mild admonishment.
“No, no I remember. I’m doing this to make sure those aliens and those monsters don’t take away what we’ve built as a species. This world is going to be built for us and by us, or we’re going to die trying,” Jeffrey replied, with all the conviction he could muster in his almost-20 year old soul.
“Good. That’s good. That’s what I and the rest of us want to hear. Keep that attitude up, and there is no telling what heights you’ll reach with us,” Linda replied, inwardly chuckling at the almost zealous nature of Jeffrey’s statements.
Why couldn’t you be like this for me, Andre? I’ll never understand where we came apart as a family…
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