Tales of Equestrian City- the Back Roads

by Alden MacManx

11- Gray Man's First Call-up

Blaise Arrow had finished his almost-nightly exercise routine and was just about to set off on his nightly five-mile jog when his phone beeped. It beeped with a special tone he had added, one that will go off when one specific number texted him, the number belonging to ‘a friend of a friend’, as he called it. Checking the message, it read, ‘Gray Man presence requested at’ it then gave an address in the warehouse district of downtown Equestrian City ‘in ninety minutes. Extra-curricular activity authorized with code word Sparkle One. Can relay?’

Blaise thought about the city maps he had long since memorized, seeing if he could jog there or would have to drive. Deciding he could make it without too much fatigue by jogging, he sent a return text. ‘Gray Man will be in the vicinity at time specified, wearing his hat.’ He then went to his bedroom to put on his Gray Man suit, an armor-reinforced lightweight body stocking given to him by his boss at work, who was one of the few beings that knew he was a meta. Once dressed, he put his jogging suit on over them, putting his full-head face mask in his pocket. The mask not only had padding and reinforcements, it had a two-way radio and a voice distorter built in to it. He then locked up his apartment, stashing the key in his hiding spot before setting out for his destination.

When he arrived at the designated site, Blaise was glad (well, as glad as he could be) that he was not only in excellent condition for being in his early middle thirties, the jogging shoes he wore provided him with excellent foot support. He jogged around the area until ten minutes before the designated time, where he found a place to take good cover before putting on his full-face mask and stashing his jogging suit. Blaise needed the full head covering because one of his most distinctive features is extensive scarring on the left side of his head. Nobody who saw the scars would forget them. The mask gave him anonymity. “Gray Man in position,” he whispered, trusting the radio circuitry would do its job.

“Firebird to Gray Man. Copy your position. Be on lookout for a white semi-truck tractor. Observe driver and especially which container it hooks up to,” came a voice in his ears, the voice being that of the meta-hero known as The Phoenix. “Be aware Matterhorn will be in vicinity as well. Your mission is to mark that semi-trailer so it can be tracked by air.”

“Gray Man copies traffic. Will observe, report and label,” he replied tersely, his voice masker changing his voice’s pitch, but not its monotonal qualities.

“Firebird ten-four.” At that, Blaise settled in to wait. It was not long before a white semi-tractor pulled up, the driver getting out to unlock a door in the warehouse he had pulled up to. As Blaise watched, he could see the driver acted as if he not only knew what he was doing, but he was not trying to hide his presence at all. The driver acted like he belonged there. After a minute, the driver came back out, locking the door behind him and driving to the loading dock area, a gate in the fence opening, allowing the driver to access the trailers.

Blaise moved to observe the access gate better, reporting in as he did. “Matterhorn to Gray Man. Find a place to climb so you can mark the top of the trailer. Observe and report trailer’s path for as long as you can.”

“Gray Man copies, Matterhorn,” Blaise replied. Mind you, he did not know who Matterhorn is, except as an ally that he was told he could trust by two people he did trust. Blaise found a ladder to the roof of the warehouse, so up he climbed. Looking over the edge where the tractor went, he found it backed up against a trailer, the driver hooking up control lines. Quickly, he summoned his crossbow, set it for heat bolts, and fired several times down at the roof of the trailer, leaving an unmistakable pattern of scorch marks there. “Labeling accomplished,” he reported.

“Stay hidden, Gray Man. You will be picked up after the tractor leaves,” Matterhorn told him.

“Prepare for pickup. Understood.”

Blaise waited patiently, watching the truck and trailer leave the warehouse yard, the symbol burned into the roof clearly visible from above. Shortly after the truck passed out of sight, he heard, “Gray Man, prepare for pickup.”

“Ready for pickup.”

Blaise became aware of a purple glow surrounding him, then he was lifted off the rooftop. “Do not struggle, Gray Man. I have you,” Matterhorn said in his ears. He promptly went limp in the grasp of the purple glow. “Just keep an eye on the truck.”

Together, the two tracked the semi across town, to a lumberyard that was set a long way back from the road, long twisting drives leading both to and from it, labeled ‘in’ and ‘out’. They quickly landed to observe what would be happening, which turned out it being the trailer was dropped off there and left. “Now, why would they do this?” Matterhorn mused. “This just does not make sense.”

“To us, make sense do not. To them, make sense do. Trace ownership of truck, trailer, warehouse, lumberyard. Commonalities search for,” Blaise suggested. “What in trailer?”

“In order, independent trucker, trailer owned by warehouse, working on warehouse owner, unknown as of here or what could be inside. For all we know, the trailer can be empty,” Matterhorn muttered.

“Ja. If trailer empty, then trailer brought here to be used someplace else, pick up by someone else.”

“You could be right. I think I will leave a tag on the trailer, so I can track it.”

“Down. Somebody approaching from road.” The two ducked below the low parapet of the roof. Blaise peeked over the edge while Matterhorn put a probe up. They observed a pickup truck pull up with something in the bed, covered by a tarp. The pickup pulled up alongside the trailer, the driver opened the back doors, and the driver and passenger loaded several crates from the bed of the truck into the trailer, going all the way back. This went on until the truck was empty, at which time it pulled out and left.

“Suggest check a crate we do?” Blaise asked.

“No,” Matterhorn replied. “There’s another car coming.”

A parade of pickup trucks arrived over the next three hours, slowly loading the trailer with crates. Phoenix reported in, saying the pickups were coming from different directions, and staggered so that one is gone before the next one arrived. “Somebody is going to great effort to keep this completely in the dark,” Matterhorn muttered after three hours.

“Ja. Much longer should not run. Lumberyard early opens it does. Trailer blocking access to wood storage,” Blaine observed.

“I didn’t notice that. You’re right, Gray Man. It is blocking the gate.”

“So, wait we do until happen something does.”

“I hate waiting,” Matterhorn muttered.

“I so do too. Patience necessary to bring down targets. Patience I have.”

“How you manage it?” Matterhorn asked.

“Discipline. Trained I did as sniper before Army find my gift for electronic diagnosis and repair. Was good sniper. Glad I was for transfer.”

As Matterhorn was going to reply to that, Phoenix broke in. “Semi cab coming up drive,” she warned. The pair watched the semi cab drive up and start connecting to the trailer. “We need to stall the driver, but how?” Matterhorn asked.

In response, the Gray Man lit up his crossbow. Even in the dark, it did not shed too much light. “To me leave that,” he said quietly. He waited until the driver got into the cab before firing, guiding the bolt into the rearmost outside tire. He fired again, sending this bolt to the inside rear tire. The driver got out when she felt the trailer tilt to the right. The driver checked the tires, found the two flats, then started swearing and cursing up a storm that was audible, for a few seconds at least, up on the roof. “That driver to Eastern Empire be at some time.”

“How do you know that?” Matterhorn asked.

“Recognize words used, I did. Translate them I will not. From voice, can tell you lady are. Not right to use such words in front of lady, even when said by lady. Put her sleep I should?” Blaise asked.

“How long will she be out?”

“Little three minutes, more than hour at most.”

“I will only need a few minutes to place a tracker where it will not be found, and maybe check out a crate,” Matterhorn said after a little thought.

The crossbow bolt changed from a steely color to one with a reddish hue. “Ten minutes be this one.”

“Fire away.” Matterhorn commanded.

Blaise fired, guiding the bolt to strike the still-swearing driver in the back of the neck, dropping her like a sack of potatoes. “Go now.”

Matterhorn flew down and opened the trailer door, going in. Thirty seconds later, Phoenix called in. “Another car in the drive!”

“Stall them! I need a minute to get out and shut the doors!” Matterhorn reported.

“Stall, ja.” Blaise said from his rooftop perch. As soon as he saw the glint of the headlights coming through the trees, he fired an electric shock bolt, guiding it low along the road into the engine block. Immediately, the lights went out and the motor stopped, the car coasting to a halt. “Enemy out. To hurry would good be, Matterhorn.”

“Bug planted. Sample acquired. Exiting now.” was heard as Matterhorn left the trailer and closed the door. As she went to take off, a gunshot was heard, and a bullet bounced off her armor. “OUCH!” she yelped, more in surprise than pain.

“Phoenix, need light. Shoot I do,” Blaise said. A gout of flame lit up the skies above the trees, shedding enough light to reveal two people in the drive, one with a pistol, one with a rifle. Blaise did not hesitate. His first stun shot went to the rifle toter. When that one went down, he let a bolt go to the pistoleer, who was shooting up into the sky, trying to hit Phoenix. That one dropped heavily, too. For security, he shot the truck driver a second time, with a heavier stun bolt.

“Matterhorn! Are you all right?” Phoenix said over the radio.

“Yes, just surprised, is all. Gray Man, how long will they be down?” she asked.

“Half hour sure of. After that, depend on person do,” Blaise reported. “Have suggestion to make.”

“If you mean de-ass the area, I agree,” Phoenix called down.

“Remember term must do. That suggestion I going to say,” Blaise replied as Matterhorn flew up to the rooftop.

“I agree, Gray Man. I’ll take you back where I found you. Phoenix, will meet you later at the place,” Matterhorn said as Gray Man lifted off the rooftop in a purple nimbus.

“Appreciate that I do. Later to tell me what was found. Hurry not.” Blaise said as he was flown.

“That makes one and a half I owe you, Gray Man!” Phoenix said as she flew off in a different direction.

“Understood. Maybe someday collect. No hurry. Helping heroes is right thing to do.”

“And thanks for it!” Phoenix said before she flew out of Blaise’s radio range.

The Gray Man was dropped off right where he was picked up at, back in the warehouse district. “Watch your mail, Gray Man!” Matterhorn said as she flew off. Blaise did not reply as he found his jogging suit, put it on, took off his head mask and started jogging home. At home, he found a message waiting on his house phone from Twilight Sparkle, which said he was not to report in to work until noon tomorrow, that she would be out of the office but would require his aid after noon.

“Lucky I am to have such good fortune. Tired I be,” Blaise said as he stripped off his clothes for a long warm shower before fixing a light meal of cheese bratwurst on hot dog rolls before falling in to bed. Two days later, he received a thick envelope in the mail with no return address. Inside was a typewritten report of what was found in the truck, as well as copies of the arrest report of the driver and the two gun goons. Also included was a five-hundred-buck money order with a note that said, “Thanks for your help. Until the next time,” the note was from Twilight Sparkle, the one who gave him the Gray Man suit to begin with. “Connections she has, more than I know or need to know,” he said quietly as he read through the report. Apparently, along with a lot of mixed equipment, there were some very exotic chemicals which were in the process of being traced. Very dangerous exotic chemicals. Special handling required chemicals.

“Wonder what such gear was needed for,” Blaine observed as he filed the papers away in the back of his main desk file drawer, in a folder that had gray tape on the tab.

Author's Note:

Shoulda posted yesterday. My goof. Sometimes, it aint easy to know what day it is.

An average day at work for Blaise's second job. He's no front-line meta, and knows it, so he helps the front-liners, giving them the extra little edge that could spell the difference between success and failure.

Next week, someone new joins the group, with a rather unusual ability. How unusual? Well, be careful looking in the... gets interrupted by a large cream pie right to the face...

SHUT UP, DESMOND! is heard from offstage. The Announcer just slinks off, clearing cream from his eyes

Did you HAVE to use shaving cream, Morris? Makes my eyes sting...

Comments

[DavisSentoV5]

This was good action-filled chapter. It shows how well the team can work together.