//------------------------------// // Chapter Five: On two sides of the glass // Story: Gleaner Chronicles // by sevenofeleven //------------------------------// Gleaner Chronicles Mall of America When the wave of alien energy grabbed Margot and pulled her in, Mark wanted to go into the mall and get her out but something held him back. He got as far as the closed door. A quick glance inside showed no bodies. The sun was warm, but Mark felt cold. The comms went quiet. He did not know if that was better than hearing screams. Mark had to reach out. “This is Special Agent Mark Strickland. Is there anyone out there?” Mark asked through the headset. Very few agents replied. Then his comms was filled with a commanding voice, “This is SSA Monica Williams. All agents must keep the mall secure until local law enforcers get here. Until the Hazmat team has certified that this area is safe, no one is to enter the mall.” Mark looked at his reflection in the glass, and saw the small crowd moving up on him. He turned around. It seemed like a guy in a Red Sox baseball cap was the leader. He walked up to Mark and said,”I need to get in there to get my wife! These people have loved ones in there too.” The guy made a gesture to include the people behind him. “I’m sorry but no one can go in until the Hazmat team says it’s safe,” Mark replied. He understood what the guy felt. “Well, it looks safe to me,” Baseball cap guy said aggressively after looking around Mark to see into the mall. Mark could feel that this situation could slide into something worse but he had orders. Baseball cap guy took a step forward. The crowd stepped forward too. Mark drew his gun. The crowd and baseball cap guy backed up a step. A second later, baseball cap guy squinted like he was looking into a too bright sun. At that moment, police cars and SWAT trucks arrived with flashing lights and screeching brakes. Mark did not want to think what would have happened if he had to handle the crowd by himself. --- A day later Washington D.C. FBI Offices. The normally busy office was quiet and somber. The incident at the Mall of America had cost the FBI several agents that had worked in several cubicles near Mark. He would not joke with or work with them ever again. Mark looked over his dark brown wooden desk that had a few folders and reports on it. He sighed when he thought of how much paperwork he had to do. Mark grabbed a pen and was going to work on another report when he felt someone was standing in front of his desk. Mark looked up. A tall guy with slicked back dark brown hair and brown eyes looked down at Mark. He smiled a wide smile, then extended a well manicured hand. “Glad ta meetcha! I’m Margot Summerholt’s replacement. My name is Jerome Siklis. I'll be working with you.” Jerome reminded him of a pushy car salesman, someone with a glib reply for everything. Mark looked at his new D-core partner, Jerome Siklis. Something about the guy ticked him off. Jerome seemed okay but something about this guy… Earth Some time later Dallas D-core offices Interrogation room six A few days later, the terrorists attacked again. This time D-core had better info. Mark and Jerome with the help of some SWAT teams managed to stop the attack in NYC and get some prisoners. Other teams around the world were less successful, they stopped the attacks but the terrorists all died. The prisoners from NYC were sent to the Dallas D-core office. Interrogation room six was a gray-green room with a one way mirror window on one side, a desk with a computer and behind it some shelves and cabinets. Room six did have one different thing, a perplexed FBI agent. Other than the prisoner, there was not much to see. Two cheap fold-out chairs and a gray metal table. Mark gazed through the one way glass into the interrogation room. A black bug-like pony waited with a glum look on its face. The creature had a silver and black torus on its horn. Mark knew that if he walked into the room, he would see a blonde woman wearing a pink halter top chained to the table and floor. He did not understand what he was seeing. When he interrogated suspects, they were the same on both sides of the glass. Mark wondered what was really going on. How many FBI agents dealt with fanged bug ponies? Ponies? They were docile creatures that kids pet at shows. Ponies pulled carts or maybe had kids riding them. At most ponies bit people because they were not trained well, or because they were mean. He refused to believe that these alien ponies were leaving bombs in knapsacks to explode and kill people. Then there were the bombs themselves. They caused almost no physical damage. Video footage from security cameras showed at most tables and chairs were moved a few inches. Mark wished that the films showed what happened to the people. There was a green flash with some black in it and then the people were gone. The idea that ponies - even black bug eyed ones - were capable of making weapons bothered him. The FBI handbook, though quite extensive, did not have anything to cover this situation. Then again as Mark peered through the glass, he saw that the bug pony’s head was a big as a normal human’s head. Maybe they were as smart as a regular person and the handbook might still be valid, he thought. Jerome came in with a steaming cup of coffee, and looked at the prisoner. “Ya know, even with the fangs, she’s kinda cute looking,” Jerome mused. “You know, it could be male,” Mark replied, but then regretted what he said. “Nah, I checked, its female,” Jerome said with a smile. Mark did not want to know how Jerome checked. “Are you ready for some fun?” Jerome asked with an even larger smile. Mark nodded. Jerome gave him a thumbs up. He left to go to the interrogation room. Mark hoped that they would get some useful intel from the prisoner. To him, it seemed like things were going to get worse. Mark leaned close to the one way glass to watch. Jerome walked into the room and sat down across the pony. “My name is Jerome. What’s yours?” Jerome asked in a chatty tone of voice. The pony just looked at Jerome with a sullen look on its face. “What? No name, rank or serial number? I am sooo disappointed,” Jerome said. “You know, I do not have the time to play games. You either be a bit more chatty or...” Jerome narrowed his eyes a bit. Mark did not understand what happened next. The pony’s green eyes widened and it cringed away from Jerome. If it had not been chained up, the creature would be hugging the furthest wall from Jerome. “Ya know, I will be back. I hope by then we can have a nice discussion,” Jerome said and walked out of the room. When Jerome entered the viewing room, Mark asked him,”What the hell did you do to that prisoner?” Jerome answered with a question,”What do you think happened?” “Do not go there! Answer my question!” Mark replied with narrowed eyes.. The feeling that he was back in the Twilight Zone surfaced again along with the resentment. Mark wondered what Jerome did to the prisoner to make it react like that. There was no physical contact. Jerome glanced at the cowering prisoner, ”Its complicated.” “No, it is not,” Mark replied. Mark’s resentment went up a notch. To him, complicated was trying to hook up a VCR to a TV set and cable box. Interrogating prisoners is not as complicated as Jerome said. Jerome looked away for a second and then looked back. “There is a lot of weird stuff going on with this case,” Jerome said. “No kidding,” Mark replied while locking his gaze on Jerome. “This is not normal, a lot does not make sense. There are no messages. No videos showing propaganda,” Mark said while clenching his hands. “Maybe this unknown organization, UnOrg, in D-core speak, does not care if we fear them or not. You know why we are here and my bosses don’t care about local threats,” Jerome stated while waving a well manicured right hand. Mark noticed that Jerome’s fingernails were perfectly shaped and just a bit too shiny. He figured that he had nail gloss on them. It was not just Jerome’s hands that bothered Mark, it was also the rest of Jerome’s outfit. The charcoal gray suit and pants were definitely not off the rack. He wondered how much money Jerome was making. Then Mark realized where some of his distaste for Jerome was coming from. He was jealous of Jerome. It was unprofessional and Mark resolved to keep those feelings under control. He still had this feeling that he was being kept in the dark. “I have this feeling that there is more going on than you or your boss, is sharing,” Mark said while his eyes narrowed. “Hey, point that anger somewhere else. You feel angry because you don’t understand what is going on. I only know a little bit more than you. Do you want to know what I know?” Jerome asked with a smile. “Stop dancing! Just tell me what’s going on!” Mark said with clenched fists. Something about Jerome’s smiles was stomping on Mark’s toes. “I am not really supposed to mention this,” Jerome said while glancing around. Jerome’s actions seemed a bit too dramatic to Mark. “Well. Go on!” Mark spat out. “My employers don’t want to mention the word ‘Magic’. People on this world have crazy ideas about it,” Jerome said after sighing. It also seemed too dramatic to Mark. Mark shook his head in denial, “Magic? There is no such thing.” Jerome’s right eye twitched. Mark smiled on the inside, finally he managed to get under Mr. Smooth Salesguy’s skin. “Yeah, Magic. Not just for unicorns and the mentally unstable or naive. Magic is why you can see what Ms. Pink Halter top really looks like. Magic is why she is able to fool people into thinking that she is a hot looking blonde. Magic is how I was able to dump a little fear into the head of our guest. If I push harder, I can make our guest see anything I want, ” Jerome finished his little speech with a few deep breaths to calm down. “If you are right about magic, if it really exists... What about the attacks?” Mark asked while unclenching his fists. He was far from accepting magic, but it felt like it made sense. “The attacks are not from enemies that want to just kill. I think they are harvesting something from people. I have sensed some sort of magical residue left over at the places where the bug ponies exploded their devices. If you want to kill people, you just kill them. There is something more about these devices. I wish that your bosses had listened to my boss and moved the soldiers further away from the areas where the bombs exploded,” Jerome said. “You think something is going to happen?” Mark asked while frowning. The idea that more of these attacks could happen was something he did not want to think about. Jerome shrugged. “I don’t know, but I wouldn't risk it for at least a few weeks.” Mark leaned into Jerome. “What are you? Some sort of Psychic?” Another flicker of annoyance crossed Jerome’s face. That gave Mark a bit of pleasure. “No! I am a wizard. My specialty is Enchantment, Mind based magic,” Jerome replied while looking into Mark’s eyes. “Stop before you start to ask me silly questions about pointed hats and staves. Oh yeah, I stay out the minds of the folks I work with unless authorized. To cut a long story short, the UnOrg is magic based. Do not mention this to your FBI coworkers,” Jerome said in a warning tone while looking around. “You know, this sounds like a load of bull,” Mark said with narrowed eyes. Even though he was still angry, there was this feeling that he had been given some useful info. Something to help him deal with the Twilight Zone feeling. Jerome sighed, ”Can we keep working, at least? Keep your eyes open and you will find something that might change your mind.” Mark just stared at Jerome. After a second, he pointed at the interrogation room. Jerome turned and went back into the room. Mark watched as his partner sat down and started to question the cringing prisoner. One thought wondered if Margot knew about Magic. He wondered if she would tell him what he needed to know without all of the drama that Jerome liked. Then he said a quick prayer for her soul.