🚀 go-pugleaf

                                   [Part Two]


     Trashman slowly probed forward into the motorpool.  He had carefully
marked out where the pressure sensors were.  His team had accepted his word.
It looked good, so far.  Everything was going according to plan.
     All the lights snapped on, and a klaxon began to sound.  "Special Agent
Olson to Control.  We are under attack.  Repeat, we are under attack," crackled
a voice over a PA.
     "Glad to see we haven't lost our touch," the Masked Bruce said.
     "What alarm did we set off?" Spandex Babe asked, priming her defenses.
     "It's not my fault!" Healer shouted.
     The various heroes turned and looked at her.
     "Sorry.  In Calforce that's traditional."
     ><We didn't set any alarms off,>< Trashman sent over the link.  ><They
must have detected the Dash.  Prep for incoming!><
     His team moved around him, he taking the point, the Masked Bruce rising
into the air, Spandex Babe bracketing him on the other side.  Healer and Kid
Solipsism moved back to back between them.
     Fortunately, they didn't have long to wait.

                                   * * * * * *

     Pongress stared through the glass at the girl.  His hands itched.  He
wanted to wash his hands.  Could he wash his hands of this?
     Burns could.  He'd make a joke out of it.  Bankert would be terse.  Paul
would be snide.  Olson....
     Olson hadn't been trying for information.  He had been beating her.
Torturing her for no reason at all.  And Pongress had seen the grin -- the
hideous grin.  Olson loved it.  He finally got to use his hands on her.
     It didn't matter.  Pongress had to kill her.  He had so little time....
     He had joined the Bureau to protect his country.  To protect the
Constitution of the United States of America.  To protect freedom.
     When had it become this?  Paul said he was stupid -- that he didn't
understand why the Director had promoted Pongress.  Pongress didn't know either
-- but Pongress had gotten this far by trusting his heart, as well as his
training.
     He had no idea what to do.

                                   * * * * * *

     The first wave was automatic.  Machine guns began to spray the Motorpool.
Trashman bounced a half-dozen slugs off his Millite trashcan lid and tucked
into a roll, letting the lid slip off his hand and sail into the first gun
emplacement, crumpling the barrel.  He stayed low, rolling into a double
somersault which caused another hail of bullets to fly over his head, then
snapped his body up into an arcing jump, throwing three rusty Lysol cans from
his Utility Coveralls at two other emplacements.
     The cans exploded, shattering them.  A ceiling gun popped down, but a
Neophotonic burst shattered it.  Trashman nodded to Spandex Babe as he rolled
to the side and went back to work.
     Spandex Babe on the other hand was standing and absorbing the hail of
bullets.  These were powerful rounds, firing from miniguns -- they'd drain off
her defensive power quickly if she weren't careful, and then she'd be ground
Dianna.  But aside from the one blast to cover Trashman's backside she wasn't
resisting.
     The reason became clear as the miniguns were shattered by a stream of
Xolchapulses.  The Masked Bruce's uniform was still protecting him from the
weapons' sensing devices, so while Spandex Babe was a convenient target, the
Masked Bruce was wiping the opposition out.  She grinned at the Masked Bruce,
and jumped for a missile launcher as it deployed, using her bioengineered
strength to slam into the weapon's tripod and shatter it.
     "Come on!" Kid Solipsism shouted, running for an doorway.  Healer ran
after him, even as six more automatic weapons snapped into place on either side
of them.
     }{The Miniguns!}{ she sent, ready to leap and knock him out of the way.
     "Forget them -- they couldn't hit the broad side of Mighty Guy -- they'll
probably blow themselves up trying to hit us!"  As the Kid spoke, the guns
opened fire.  But despite advanced laser sighting and tracking systems, they
managed to completely miss the two heroes, arcing across the room into each
other in a hail of high caliber death that soon had all six weapons
obliterated.
     As the two reached the doorway, Healer had to admit she could see the
family resemblance between the Kid and Faith.  }{Trashman!}{ she sent, }{I
can't sense conscious thoughts from the Dash -- she's out of it!}{
     )(Is she all right?)( the Masked Bruce demanded.
     ><Belay that -- right now the issue is finding Trudy.  Spilt up -- we have
to cover as much room as possible, as quickly as possible.  Our cover's blown,
so Trudy's in incredible danger!><

                                   * * * * * *

     Kim ran down the hallway.  It was a ramp, sinking deeper and deeper into
the bowels of the lab.  The lighting got darker, the lower you went.  It was
all a calculated psychological effect.
     It would have been smarter to have gone to Control and taken the Elevator.
But Kim didn't want to do that.  He didn't want to go to Control.  He didn't
want to do the smart thing.  The antiseptic thing.  He had allowed all of this
to happen... he couldn't take the easy way out now.
     There it was.  Room One-oh-One.  The door was ajar somewhat.  He was still
pretty far off, but he could see Unorthodox Girl.
     She was still alive.  Her back was to him.
     The regulations were clear.  They had to protect the Bureau.  The thing to
do was to kill her.  Eliminate her.  Destroy her corpse so the A.L.U. couldn't
prove she was ever there.
     Kim ran for the room.  He would make it quick.  Snap her neck, end her
pain.  Have whatever Special Agent was within help him vivisect what was left.
Dispose of the remains and get out.  He didn't have to--
     He saw her, as he ran for her.  Her back and legs were bloody -- streaks
of red dripping from cruel welts.  But she didn't look submissive.  Her back
was arched, her muscles tense.  She was trying to break free.
     There was something on the ground next to her -- black metal covered in
blood.  She had been beaten with a police issue Cobra.
     Kim could end her pain -- he had to.  He had to be strong, had to keep his
position if he was going to block Less.  There was so much more at stake than
Trudy Unorthodox.
     He got closer.  Closer.  He could see the pattern of the wounds.  Or
rather, the lack of a pattern.
     Torture was a surgical science.  You had an objective and you sought it,
asking questions and carefully increasing the pain in different and varied ways
until the subject began to tell you what you wanted to know.  This wasn't like
that at all.  This was wild... unprofessional.  This was horrid....
     It hadn't been an interrogation.  Unorthodox Lass had been beaten for
someone's sadistic pleasure.
     Did that make it worse?  Did that change anything?
     Olson.  Olson had been down here.  Dispassionate Olson, always seeing the
objective so clearly.  Except he hadn't, had he?
     Kim slowed to a stop, and stared at the girl.  Even running at full speed,
he knew Trudy hadn't heard him.
     The Bureau required....
     The Bureau required that situations be resolved in the Bureau's favor.
Period.  They didn't care about methods, only results.  The Lab was compromised
-- according to that alert he had heard, it had already begun.  He could cover
them by killing Trudy.
     Or...
     Kim smiled for a half second.  It was a feral smile.

                                   * * * * * *

     The elevator doors opened.  "Report," Olson said to Bankert as he strode
in the room.  Bankert couldn't help but notice Olson's suit looked rumpled, and
had bloodstains on the sleeve.
     "Situation Normal -- All Fucked Up," Burns said.  "It's the A.L.U. all
right.  We took out the Dash, but the rest of them broke through the Motorpool
defense.  We're tracking Spandex Babe, Kid Solipsism, and an unknown.  We've
had evidence of the Masked Bruce but no sightings, and we've lost Trashman.  We
have intercept teams moving in."
     Olson nodded.  "Give me a visual on the unknown," he said, sliding into
place.  His command was assumed, not real, but they followed it anyhow.
     A blonde woman in a red and white jumpsuit was creeping down a hallway.
Her bearing was professional.
     "Christ on the half-shell," Paul swore.  "That's Elizabeth Tirkoff!"
     "Healer," Olson mused, unruffled.  "No wonder they found us.  Where's
Kim?"
     "Securing the subject."
     "That shouldn't take long -- I left Pongress below to eliminate her.  All
right -- let's see what happens next."

                                   * * * * * *

     Field Agent Brown checked the action on his nine millimeter.  He nodded to
Field Agents Bennett and Meadows.  They were ready.
     According to Control, the Adjusted League had broken through the Motorpool
choke point.  They were likely spreading through the complex now, searching for
the test subject.  The Horatio Teams had to delay them.
     They moved into the first room.  It was dark, with only the subdued
emergency lights active.
     "What happened in here?" Bennett asked, her gun drawn as she looked
around.
     "No idea," said Meadows.  "That's why we were sent to check it out."
     "Master of the obvious, eh Meadows?"  Brown tried to keep his voice light.
He was really somewhat tense, but he couldn't afford to let the others see
that.  He was on the fast track, and he wanted to stay there.
     "The obvious is the first clue to the unknown."
     The voice was icy cold, and seemed to come from everywhere at once.  The
agents froze in place.
     "What the Hell (tm)?" Meadows asked.
     "Federal agents!" Bennett said, brandishing her pistol.  "Lay on the floor
and put your hands over your head!"
     There was no answer.
     "Yeah, that got him, Bennett."  Brown was getting tenser, now.  This was
too weird.
     "I'm looking for a friend of mine," the voice suddenly said.  "You
couldn't direct me to her, could you?"
     "Oh Author," Meadows swore.
     "I mean it!" Bennett said, her voice tense.  She was scared.  Well, they
all were scared, now.  "On the floor, buster... before...."
     "Before?" the voice asked.  "Before what?"
     A shadow seemed to jump, suddenly.  All three Field Agents opened fire.
Brown himself fired seven shots before realizing they were blowing the Hell out
of a chair.
     And then a pair of hands yanked Meadows back into a reverse bulldog.  The
owner of the hands managed to roll so that all of Meadows's weight and all of
his own weight were transferred to the back of Meadows's head for a split
second.  The man twisted off the unconscious body, braced his feet against the
wall, and threw himself over the two remaining agents, twisting in midair to
land in a crouch in front of Bennett.
     "You wouldn't hit a girl, would you?" Bennett asked.  The man feinted
left, then sprang up, driving both fists under her jaw.  He made sure she was
breathing all right by driving his knee into her stomach, then drove both hands
against her face, boxing her ears.  She slumped to the floor.
     "I believe in Women's liberation," he said to the unconscious body, then
looked up at Brown.
     Brown had his pistol pointed right at the man's face.  "Don't move or I
swear I'll shoot," Brown said, terrified.
     "Where... is... Unorthodox... Lass...." the man said, making each word a
death knell.
     "I swear I'll shoot.  I can't miss at this range.  Get down right now!"
     The man stared into Brown's eyes.  "Shoot me?  With that?  You don't even
have it loaded."
     "What?"  The man glanced at the pistol for a split second.  It was a
VP-70z, with thirteen in the clip!  He--
     Trashman's blow slammed Brown's skull into the wall.  Brown slumped to the
floor.
     Trashman looked at the three unconscious agents.  He took the clips from
their pistols, knowing instinctively (and accurately) that they had no spares.
     Three less to worry about, but they were no closer to finding Trudy.

                                   * * * * * *

     Trudy was waiting for the fatal blow -- her eyes open, staring at the
mirrored wall -- when the door was slammed wide.
     She forced herself to turn -- the pain flooding her not enough to keep her
from looking...
     It was a tall blond man, in a suit like the Agents.  But he wore no
sunglasses, and his hair seemed unkempt.
     Trudy knew him.  It seemed so long ago, like another lifetime entirely,
but she knew this man.  He had been in the alleyway.  He had been....
     He had taken her.  He had been the one to knock her out.
     "Unorthodox Girl?  I'm Secret Secret Agent Thomas Kim, National
Intelligence Bureau.  I'm here to get you out."
     "You bastard," she muttered.  "You got me in!"
     "I know," he said, moving fluidly over to her.  "I was given a false set
of orders.  One of our men -- Secret Agent Olson -- has been misappropriating
funds and resources to pursue a private agenda.  When I reported my
involvement, we discovered the falsification.  I'm leading the Situation Omega
Three operation to get you out."
     "He... he was in charge all along... the Bastard was in charge...."
     Kim freed her hands and worked at her legs.  "We have to hurry," he said.
"Your comrades in the Adjusted League are also attacking the base, to retrieve
you.  We only have--"
     "Don't move, traitor!"
     Kim sprang up, pushing the newly freed Trudy behind him.  "Pongress...."
he said.
     An agent was standing at a door in the middle of the mirrored wall.  "You
traitor," he said.  "You can't let her go -- not after what she's seen!"
     "Pongress, wait!"
     "Forget it.  She has to die, and so do you!"
     "Run, Unorthodox Lass!"  Kim shoved her to the door, even as Pongress
fired three shots.  Two of them ripped all the way through Kim's body.  The
third hit but remained.
     Kim dropped.  But Trudy was outside the room.
     Free.  And she knew they didn't have a hostage.
     Ignoring the shooting pain in her legs, in her arms, in her head, Trudy
turned and began to run.  Run up the ramp, up the levels... up out of Hell.
She was free, and she wouldn't ever... *ever* be taken again.  Pongess could
shoot her, but she wouldn't own her.
     But the bullet didn't come, and then she was rounding a corner and she
knew she was going to make it.  She saw a room, and started to turn to go
inside it -- find a phone or a weapon, or maybe some clothes--
     And froze.
     Her father and Doctor Blue were inside, staring out at her.

                                   * * * * * *

     Pongress walked over to Kim's body.  He looked down at the Special Special
Agent.
     "I think she's gone," he said softly.
     Kim slowly pushed himself up.  The holes in his shirt weren't at all
bloody, though Pongress could see one wound in his pectoral muscle.  Kim closed
his eyes, flexed that muscle, and the bullet was slowly forced out.  As it fell
to the floor, Kim's skin seemed as good as new.
     "I wasn't sure if I could believe in that," Pongress said.
     Kim almost smiled.  "Silver bullets only, Pongress.  Believe it.  We need
to get to the station.  It won't do for me or my `murderer' to be found."
     Pongress nodded.  "You surprised me when you called for an Omega Three.  I
thought we had to eliminate her, sir."
     "We had to make certain that the Bureau was protected.  Unorthodox was
willing to believe her tormenter was entirely to blame.  That will go farther
than her death would have."
     Pongress nodded.  "What about Olson?  You're throwing him to the wolves,
aren't you?"
     Kim arched an eyebrow.  "I'll take that as a joke," he said, and headed
for the Exodus trains.  From the sub station, he'd be able to radio in the
current pravda.


                              [End of Part Two]