Post by jackalope on Apr 14, 2013 7:32:39 GMT -5
Ultimate Ex Machina
The Ides of March pt 2
The Ides of March pt 2
March
Covering his face with one arm, he swipes out with another. A stab like an ice pick hits his head, the bird stays in the air, darting and attacking with claws and flapping wings. The Delaware Governor lashes out with a grunt, only to be mauled on the neck. More birds circle in though the window. Hundred runs for his chair, swinging it widely. He hits a couple of the creatures but already he feels the pecking on his arms. The cawing and chirping is overwhelming, he can barely think amidst the feathers, can barely even breath. He needs a distraction.
“SPRINKLERS”
The water falling barely affects the avian attackers but for a moment they widen their cycle of attack. The Governor is curled up on the ground. Mitchell pulls him up and runs for the door. Birds circle in around, the flock crisscrossing in the air, forcing them back a few steps. Mitchell feels a slash across cheek. He grits his teeth looking for an exit through the churning mass of feathers and claws. Instinctively, his arms move to shield his face from more attacks.
SLAM
The door bursts open, knocking a couple of birds out of the air. Bradbury stands with gun drawn.
“Down!”
Hundred grabs the governor's shoulders and pushes him down. A magazine full of rounds is emptied into the room in quick succession and expert aim. With all but two of the birds alive, Ray grabs the Mayor's arm. Pulling him through the office room of his staff, the three stay low, ducking as the birds swoop. Others are hiding under their desks.
“Where's Journal!?” the Mayor yells.
“Mayor?” They turn to see a blond assistant crawling on the carpet, a clipboard covering her head. Journal attempts a brave smile, but blood drips from one cheek. “What's happening?” she asks faintly.
“We need to get everyone away from windows,” Hundred says, looking at Bradbury. The bodyguard nods, swiftly shooting a dive bombing bird. The Mayor shakes his head to try and stop the deafening ring. “Bradbury, take Journal, the Governor and the others to the basement, we've got a shelter down there.”
“You're coming right?” Ray asks. “I can't leave you.”
“You can't come.” The Mayor shakes his head. “He's calling me out.”
“That's why you can't go!” shouts Journal. “Just wait for Superman to save everything!”
“What's he going to do? Kill all the birds?” Hundred grabs Ray's shoulder. “He's got to be using something to amplify the command- like on the boat. I'll be able to find it.”
The bodyguard grits his teeth. “Don't fucking die.” Seeing the steel in Hundred's eyes he turns to the room, standing. “Everyone follow me.” He quickly takes out another half dozen birds, then sprints to the door, holding it as the staff run for it.
Hundred runs out into the hallway, heading in the other direction.
* * *
“Zee, you ok?” Matty shouts into the cell phone, as the Taxi driver swerves widely through the road. Outside, the emergency sirens blare. Every few seconds another pigeon would dive bombs one of the windows, all of which wore cracks.
“Goddamn flying rats, I knew they'd turn on us. I told 'em. You think they listened?” The taxi driver mutters angrily to himself as he navigated the Metropolis roads covered with fleeing people. Given the situation, he was handling it all remarkably well. Never under-estimate a taxi-driver to take bio-terrorism in his stride, thought Matty, to him it's just another shitty day in the City of Tomorrow.
“Matty? Chhhz fine.” The lines were obviously strained and were cutting in and out. “We've closed up the metal sliders thchhhz cover the windows, and the door's been boarded. There's plenty injured but mostly everyone's ok. Chhhz you ok honey? You're not hurt?'
He smiles. She's ok. “Yes, I'm fine. Akmed the driver is a goddamn fighter pilot. I'm just so glad you're good.”
“I mean they spend all their time shitting on us – of course they hate us, but no...” Akmed shakes his head in frustration. A bird slams into his driver window. He spits at it in disgust.
“Where are you going to go? Don't chhhz home, there's too much glass there.”
“I've got somewhere. Don't worry. I'm gonna go babe. Love you, stay safe.”
“Bye Matty, don't get hurt. I'll see you after the world stops ending.”
He ends the call. “Akmed – we're near the City records building right?”
“Indeed we are, Mr Roth,” the driver says as he pulls on to the sidewalk. He grins, shaking his fist at the cracked window. “These birds will mourn the day they turned on Akmed!”
* * *
Turpin hands the rookie a cigarette with his free hand, while the other made quick turns on the driver’s wheel. The sirens wail. “Light that for me.”
The rookie looks and the cigarette and then up at the detective. “But...”
“I think better when I smoke,” he says with a growl. “Light it.”
The rookie quickly pulls the lighter from the dashboard and presses it to the Marlboro’s end. Just as he hands it back a bird bounces off the front window. Turpin swerves but corrects himself. He greedily takes a drag of the cigarette before grabbing the radio. “This is 42-13, can you get Angotti on the line. Over.”
Within seconds the radio is broadcasting the Commissioner’s voice. “Turpin! Where are you? We've tried to call in the guard but no one wants to go airborne while the kamikaze birds are on the loose.”
“We're coming up to Metropolis Central. Pherson's set up somewhere near here. It's all part of some prophetic doomsday cult he's trying to form around himself. He's going to be set up on one or more of the buildings.” Approaching Bessolo Boulevard, he flicks on the sirens. Another series of thuds hit his bonnet and window, he swerves around the erratically dispersed cars- filled with frightened passengers and covered in pecking birds.
“Air support is impossible; the fucking things are swarming the skies. I've got a dozen more squad cars on route, but they're barely moving through the jammed roads. You're gonna be on your own for now.” She sounded frantic.
“Alright Angotti. We've got this.” Replacing the radio receiver, he turns to his partner and raises an eyebrow. “You think we got this?”
The red-headed rookie smiles with an equal mixture bravery and fear. “Ab...absolutely not.” He looks out at the pulsating flocks that hovered in the sky. “I think we're fucked.”
Turpin laughs, “That's the spirit!” He hasn't felt this alive in a long time. He knew there was a reason he hadn't quit yet.
“Look out!” the Rookie yells, looking up at something. The bonnet and front window cave in with a massive thud. Glass shatters over the two detectives. The car turns ramming straight into a lamp-post.
The rookie throws his door open and scrambles around to the other side, staying as low as possible to avoid the avian attention. A carrion pack of pigeons were already picking apart the body that had hit their car. He pulls the door open. Turpin's large body lays slumped and bleeding back against the seat. The younger detective feels for a pulse on the man's neck.
“Stop poking me kid.” Turpin turns his head slowly, the cigarette still hanging from his lips. “Looks like we're walking.”
* * *
“Fuck!” He can't believe they were gone. Both his invisibility box and the hush box. Mitchell Hundred quickly pulls on his jetpack and helmet. He can hear the thuds of birds hitting the large windows that encircled his apartment. He closes his eyes for a second, thanking Bradbury for the bulletproof lining that he had insisted on. Gloves, he pulls on. Then boots. Looking around the closet he brings his hand up to his helmet. How the hell will he get through the sky with the flocks from hell out there?
Unless.
He reaches down and touches a panel on the floor.
“UNLOCK”
An internal latch clicks open and the floor opens up. A small cache of cubes lie, inlayed into the floor. His forbidden machines; the ones he and Kremlin agreed were too dangerous for use. But Kremlin wasn't here anymore. He hadn't opened this panel since he transported them here. They whisper to him. He withdraws a box, chrome only five inches cubed, no visible seams.
“OPEN”
It twists and opens diagonally. The small rectangular black box inside crackles with static.
* * *
Knocking makes the grey haired man look up. Amidst the chaos happening outside, he finds it strange that someone is knocking on the door. He pushes himself up from the bed base and slowly walks over. Through the fisheye lens of the peephole built into the door he can see a woman in a black suit, holding a black suitcase. She is standing off to the side in the hotel hallway, but even from her profile he finds her striking. He opens the door.
“Councilman O'Donnell?”
“Yes?” The woman standing in front of him has a thin, elfish quality to her. Her skin is pale, but her short spiked hair is even paler, almost to the point of being an electric blue. The Councilman finds his eyes sliding down her body, covered in a tailored suit, accentuating her hips, before he realizes how inappropriate he's being. She smiles reassuringly, acting as if she hadn't seen his gaze and walks past him into the room. As he turns to follow her back into the room, he asks, “Was there some memo I missed? Are you from the city council?”
He watches her sit down on the base of the bed. She looks up at the mattress that was shoved up against the window with a wardrobe keeping it in place. She points at it, looking to him. “Smart.”
“They've done it to all of the rooms. People from all over the city are hiding out here until whatever psycho is doing this, stops.” He frowns, trying to figure out whether he should know who she is.
“Not really,” she says looking at him. At his confusion, she explains. “I'm not from the council.” Nodding to the doorway, she crosses her legs.
He shuts the door and walks back to sit down on a low chair opposite her. “Then why are you here?” He unbuttons his suit jacket.
Her large blue eyes coolly meet his. “As a concerned citizen, I've come to talk to you about a city council matter.” Her hands rest slowly on her pale legs, inches from her skirt.
“Yes,” he says, eyes transfixed. “What would this city council matter concern?”
Leaning forwards, she picks up the briefcase and brings it up to her lap. “I have a problem that I believe you can make go away.”
“Is that so?” O'Donnell smiles, lifting his eyes to hers. “And what would this problem be?”
Unlocking the briefcase, she lifts its lid revealing a full try of wads of $50 notes. “I'm here to talk to you about the Aether Tower initiative and making sure it happens.”
Councilman O'Donnell nods. He stands and removes his jacket, placing it on the seat behind him. He steps towards her. He shuts the briefcase. Stepping back, he crosses his arms. “You should go.”
For a moment she sits there, her face looking almost bemused by his refusal. A short breath slips from her nose. The woman continues smiling as she stands. “I'm surprised. Impressed even. I was betting against you being one of the honest ones.”
“I'm sorry if I disappointed you but I have both an investment in the future of this city and a wife.” Standing back, he watches her brush her skirt down. “I can't believe the Hundred is willing to stoop this low, especially for those fucking Never Never towers.”
She picks up the briefcase and shakes her head. “What makes you think I was hired by the Mayor?” She walks to the door and stops. Turning, she extends her hand. “Just doing my job?” Sighing, he takes it. “You have a pacemaker right?” she asks.
“Is this some jab about my sexual prowess?”
“No, just thinking how dangerous it might be, with such a stressful situation out there and a heart condition.”
There is an audible jolt. The woman releases the man's hand as he staggers back grabbing at his chest. His legs give way underneath him and he collapses backwards. She smiles her wide pale grin. “Thank you for allowing me the chance to shake the hand of an honest politician.” She opens the door. “You don't get to do that very often.”
As Councilman O'Donnell reaches out with a curled hand, Livewire shuts the door behind her.
* * *
There is a slight hum of electric current as he shoots through the sky. Another half dozen swoop towards him. He closes his eyes. A series of crackles followed by the black silhouettes of birds dropping to the ground. Well, at least he knows the electricity-field still works.
The first time he had tried the damned thing he'd almost killed a mugger. He'd felt the guilt for that one for a long time. The bubble it creates around him repels and electrocutes anything that enters it from the outside. He'd tried everything to dampen the effectiveness but it was useless. It was almost as if the gizmo liked hurting people.
He looks around. Huge dark flocks swim through the air taking up masses of the sky. Somewhere from amidst the tall sky-scrapers a command is being broadcast out to the city. Judging from the coverage, it is likely to be coming from multiple locations, if he could just hear it from between the other voices.
Rushing wind rips past his helmet as he dives, curving around the buildings.
He hears it all; cars and traffic lights, cell phones and laptops, mp3 players, televisions, power mains, the internet, radio channels, guns, the emergency alarms in full blast. The alarms are for city wide disaster alert. They were the first thing he'd had installed after he'd been elected, in case there was ever another attack like the Brainiac invasion. Now from every shop corner and traffic light, the sirens were blaring, warning citizens to stay indoors. Only... only he couldn't hear with all the noise.
As he rises, making sure to avoid traffic lights, he hits another pocket of birds, sending them falling. Near him, a body drops from above, slamming on a car below. Dammit, why couldn't he hear the attack command? It had been so easy on the ship, almost as if Pherson had wanted him to find the amplifier.
He tries again to concentrate. If birds all over the city are attacking, there needs to be an amplifier. But he can't hear it. Machines, they call to him, yet somehow Pherson had made his command silent. Unless. Hundred looks below, at the city under attack. The sirens wind down, then slowly grow in noise again. The sirens. Fuck.
He was piggy-backing the command on the city's own emergency broadcast, masking it with sound.
Red-faced, Mitchells drops and stretches his arms out.
“EMERGENCY ALARM OFF!”
The city is swept by a sudden silence. Car alarms wail in the distance, and there's the sound of people crying. Birds silently rise up into the sky.
“UP”
His jetpack lifts him skywards. With clenched jaw and fists, he slows his ascent, looking around over the tops of the sky-scrapers. The skies are clear but for one building. A final flock of birds circle the Queen Hotel. The first place he'd saved someone. Now he was going to do the opposite. With maximum acceleration, he rockets towards it.
* *
Pherson looks down over the city. The birds were leaving. He sighs. It was something while it lasted. Sheba looks up. Following the tiger's eye line, he sees his guest fast approaching.
“Looks like Mr Mayor is in fighting form.” Pherson smiles as he walks back to the small table set up and picks up the thermos. Unscrewing the top, he pours two cups as he hums to himself. Letting his murmurs turn to words, he sings;
“Why do birds,
Suddenly appear,
Every time,
You are near...”