Careful, Lincoln. Don’t make something out of nothing. Just keep your eyes open. And wait.
So Lincoln folded his arms and spared some of his attention for the rogue that was now taking the center stage.
"Richard and I have been in close touch for some time," Khalkha began without preamble — his voice was a rich baritone, with noticeable traces of a Welsh accent underlying about every third word or so, "and I have indeed been very pleased with the progress that you have all made for our cause ..."
Lincoln came close, very close, to guffawing out loud on that sentiment.
Our "cause," huh? What "cause" is that? To overcome the horrible persecution inflicted upon us innocent paranormals by the rest of humanity? I understand that Step One toward redemption is to kidnap small children and threaten to sell them into sexual slavery! How’s
that
for a "cause?!"
"... success in many critical areas," Khalkha was saying when Lincoln calmed himself enough to continue listening. "We are concerned, of course, over the continuing developments in technology that can be used against us. When Richard was so wrongfully ejected from his position at
Davison Electronics
, we lost one of our most critical avenues of information."
McLane nodded his agreement, but his eyes remained vapid and detached, as though he weren’t really listening. No one noticed it, of course, except for Lincoln.
"We know that there were several ongoing projects at that time with which he had no direct contact. This was standard security practice, enforced by the Paranormal Control Agency. A recent attempt to infiltrate
Davison
and secure information on these projects met with unfortunate failure. Their specific target proved a disappointing venue, a former laboratory that is now used as a storage warehouse, and the
circumstances
of our team’s failure were equally unexpected."
"Have we learned what happened?" asked Scar Face.
Khalkha nodded. "Our lawyer has conferred with the team leader, Jessica Waid ..."
Lincoln smirked.
So
that’s
why ol’ Creepy Eyes isn’t here.
"... they were
stopped
by a third party. A paranormal."
Now Scar Face sat straight up. "A
paranormal
?! That can’t be right. I inspected the area beforehand. The PCA had no paranormal agents in place at
Davison
that night."
"Setting aside your failure to detect the paranormal in question," Khalkha said a bit more sharply, prompting Scar Face to lower his eyes and sulk in silence, "we do not believe that this interloper worked for the PCA. It seems that he is some sort of vigilante. According to Waid, he was wearing a black-and-gold costume, complete with mask and cape, and identified himself as ‘Vortex.’ "
A pregnant pause followed this proclamation ...
... followed by an uproar of laughter.
"Hey, ‘Powerhouse!’ " Graham chided — although Lincoln noted that he was doing so from a safe distance across the room. "Maybe the two of you should go out on a
date
, huh?!"
Lincoln merely stared at Graham from behind his ski mask. The redhead quickly swallowed the core of his mirth and looked away.
"It may appear humorous on the surface," Khalkha continued,
without
any trace of humor, which caused the laughter to pretty much die altogether, "but the inescapable fact is that this Vortex impeded our plans. We
must
find out what
Davison Electronics
has been developing outside of Richard’s arena. Covert infiltration would take time, effort, and resources that I would prefer not to expend. The last thing we need right now is some
maverick
precipitating more grief than the PCA is already causing us.
Now
," Khalkha slowly folded his arms, "with this need in place and this potential problem in mind, we are going to hit
Davison
again, and this time with a stronger force. Prior to this, we will coordinate several strikes at locations around the city, county, and state. The PCA will be stretched thin. When our elite team moves in on
Davison
, if this Vortex shows up again, that will be a prime opportunity to kill two birds with one stone."
"Who’d you have in mind for the elite team?" Graham asked, already smiling.
"I have already consulted with Richard on this matter," Khalkha answered him. "The primary team will consist of yourself, Edmond, and ... I believe he prefers to be called ‘Powerhouse?’ "
That prompted more snickers, especially from Graham, who no doubt found safety in numbers ... and the hostage children.
Lincoln paid no attention to this latest round of ridicule. Instead, his full attention was once more on Richard McLane, who was so out of it by this point that a thin trail of drool threatened to roll down his chin at any moment. He had even begun to slump in his chair — Scar Face noticed, however, and casually straightened the man by leaning against his shoulder.
Lincoln took all of this in, and wondered just what to make of it.
Careful. Just keep your eyes open. And wait.
Wait ...
VORTEX
"Damn it, Alan," Steve muttered under his breath, "how could you let this happen?"
Alan grunted and might have defended himself had the two P C Agents not reached them at that exact moment.
"Mister Davison?" the taller of the two men said, and it looked as though Takayasu — the bastard — had come through on his promise of locating agents with a Secret Service background. The height difference between the two men was just about their
only
distinguishing characteristics. Early- to mid-forties; Caucasian; short, dark hair; humorless, dark eyes; nearly identical dark suits ... the only touch missing was the sunglasses, though Steve suspected those would magically appear if the two men were required to step outside during daylight hours.
"Yes," Steve responded with a nod.
The tall agent continued, "I’m Lieutenant Danny Kremer. This is Lieutenant Junior Grade Chris Johns. We’ve been assigned to protect you in the event of another rogue attack."
They were grim and determined and would probably take a bullet — or lightning bolt — for him.
And this was Takayasu’s fault. The bastard.
I just started my super-heroing career, and I’ve already got major obstacles if I even
try
to go into action. I bet Clark Kent never had this sort of problem.
Oh, well — at least he wasn’t dating an investigative reporter. Thank God for small favors.
"I appreciate that, gentlemen," Steve said with a resigned smile. "I’ve never held public office, so I’m afraid I don’t really know how this whole bodyguard-thing works."
"Not a problem, sir," the shorter one — Johns — stated. "Most of the time, you’ll never even know we’re here."
I’ll bet.
Takayasu ... the bastard ...
PCA
Luckily, the bodyguards turned out to be fairly true to their word. They weren’t as smothering as Steve had feared ... at least, during "peace time." What would happen if
Davison
Electronics
were attacked again, only time would tell.
The most important factor, of course, was the latitude to speak with Alan freely. A handful of loyal
Davison
employees might know about the implants, but even fewer knew about the addition of the vortex wave apparatus ... and, until now, only he and Alan knew about his final decision on how to
use
the vortex.
Acknowledging the inevitable need of further assistance, they had decided to bring Ardette into this most private of circles. They arranged to meet with her in Steve’s office, and Lieutenant Johns offered little resistance to the request of waiting out in the reception area for the duration — so long as Steve understood that if a perimeter alarm sounded, Johns would interrupt the meeting without hesitation.
Ardette’s initial reaction was in line with Alan’s ("...
excuse
me...?!"), but when it became clear that Alan was indeed going along with this, however reluctantly, she settled into the idea.
"So," she said at length. She and Alan sat across from the desk Steve was using with increasing frequency, both for legitimate
Davison
business and for his more clandestine activities. "I suppose I have a few questions for you, Steve, if you don’t mind."
"Please," Steve invited.
"If you’re determined to take this ...
route
... why a cape?"
" ‘A cape?’ You mean with my costume?"
"Yes. On the assumption that you’re going to rely on your athletic skills as much as the implants, why hinder yourself with a
cape
? Comic book super-heroes don’t have to deal with the
realities
of such a burden. It will give you extra weight that you’ve never trained with. It could snag on something. Hell, if you move backward while crouching, you might very well
step
on the damned thing and trip yourself."
Alan’s face paled as he listened to the dangers that even he had not previously considered.
Steve, on the other hand, was unfazed. "I thought about all of that, Ardette. I admit that part of it is for the
panache
. I mean, one of the main reasons I’m doing this is to fill that super-hero role, to hopefully appeal to the imaginations of all kids, and maybe a few ‘grown-ups,’ too. I’m trying to show that it’s cool to be a
good guy
, not a rogue. But I
did
design the cape so that it’s drawn back, flowing off the shoulders instead of around them — it’s a cape, not a cloak."
"I’m still waiting to hear any
advantages
, Steve," Alan pointed out, worried.
Steve bit back a sigh and listed, "If I
do
pull the cape around me, the fact that it’s black will help camouflage me at night. Also, I have to
see
a target in order to use my weapons, and I don’t have eyes in the back of my head. The cape is made of the same material as the suit — if someone tries to blind-side me, I’ll have double protection on my entire backside, from my neck down to my knees. The mask is double-thick, too, everywhere except where I have to breathe through it, so my skull also has double protection."
Alan relaxed a bit, and Ardette nodded. "I see you
have
thought about this."
Steve also nodded. "As I’ve told Alan, this isn’t just a flight of fancy. I’m very serious about this — it’s important to me. I’m trying..." He swallowed, then continued. "No matter what eventually happens with McLane, I’m trying to make sure that something
good
comes out of this nightmare."
Ardette cocked her head to one side. "Does this change your views of McLane and what he’s done?"
Steve blinked in surprise, then recoiled in rising anger. "
No!
Why in the world
would
it?!"
"Because," Ardette insisted, "it sounds to me like you’re going to try for the best of both worlds."
"I don’t follow you," Steve steamed, still confused and offended by her remarks.
"Look, I can see where you’re going with this. I even admire your conviction. But ... you’re human, Steve, and as such, I imagine that you’ve been planning to deal with McLane with ... for argument’s sake, let’s just call it ‘extreme prejudice.’ Am I right?"
Steve didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.