Ultimate Ex Machina #11: Winter is Coming

[jackalope]

Ultimate Ex Machina
#11: Winter is Coming

September: Flora and Fauna


Hundred checks his watch, then looks out the car's window once more.

“...sir?”

He looks across to Journal, sitting opposite him, momentarily confused. “Sorry?”

“I was asking whether you're sure you didn't want me to come in?”

“Oh,” the Mayor smiles, “No, the Professor is quite particular about his space, something about the plants sensing people. I have the feeling that if I wasn't funding half of this myself that he'd wouldn't even let me in.” Looking at his watch again, he taps his finger against his knee. “I'll meet you in quarter to two and you can brief me for the meeting with the Chair-woman of the Housing Committee; Janet Gisselle.”

“Jackie Herbert,” Journal corrects.

“Exactly,” Hundred says, smiling.

“Uh,” Journal starts, hesitating. “Are you alright sir? It's just you seem a little distracted.”

“Oh, I'm fine.” Mitchell checks to look how far off they are from the laboratory. Looking back he suddenly notices the thick sunglasses Journal is wearing. “Journal, why are you wearing the sunnies? Big night?”

The blond assistant bites her bottom lip. “Not quite.” Sighing, she removes the sun-glasses revealing a make-up covered but noticibly swollen black eye.

“Jesus Journal, what the hell happened?!”

Journal quickly slips the shades back on. “You should see the other guy,” she tries to joke. The Mayor's face still shows a grim concern. “It's nothing, honestly, I walked head-first into a tree, heading home the other day. I was absorbed in reading on my tablet – stupid I know.”

Hundred narrows his eyes. “Promise me it's not some douchebag guy you're seeing.”

Journal laughs. “I promise, I'm not seeing anyone; douchebag or otherwise.”

The car pulls into a stop and Bradbury opens the Mayor's door. Mitchell looks at his assistant, and gives her a final nod. “I believe you, Ms Moore. And please forgive my saying so, but perhaps finding a nice someone to date might be a safer option than reading in your case.”

“I'll keep that in mind Mr Mayor.”

Hundred steps out of the car, doing up the bottom button of his jacket. Bradbury leads the way into the building. Compared to the stone and glass exterior, the internal area is clinical, blue flooring with white walls. Nodding to the ground floor lobby guard, the Mayor swipes his security card and entering the elevator. He turns to Bradbury, “I'll be down in 45.”

The bodyguard nods. “See you then Mr Mayor.” He stands on the other side of the lift as the doors close.

The guard waits a moment before turning to Bradbury. “You got any further in Candy Crush?”

*

When the doors open to the lift, Mitchell steps out on to the 5th floor. At the glass door he swipes his card again and places his thumb on the security scanner. With a hiss the door open and the Mayor takes his jacket off and pulls on white plastic cover-alls. Another hiss and the opposite door opens into the lab.

Hundred counts four lab technicians, not counting the Professor and his assistant. They quietly ignore him as they perform their specialized tasks. Slipping by, he walks to the other side of the laboratory, finding another glass door which opens after a scan of his thumb-print. Susan, Professor Woodrue's assistant, meets him at the door of the dimly lit room.

She smiles, her perfect teeth glowing purple in the dark light. “The Professor is almost ready, he's just finishing up collating data on one of Dorothy.” At the Mayor's quizzical look she smirks. “He's named all the plants. Don't tell him I told you.”

“Mum's the word.” Hundred says, now smiling too. “How are you doing anyway?”

“Mayor!” The call comes from behind a door, from which Professor Woodrue emerges. “I have been expecting you.”

“Please, just Mitchell too you.” The Mayor shakes the Professor's hand. “I look forward to seeing your progress.”

The older man scratches his grey chin stubble and smiles. “Come, let me show you what we've been doing.”

For the next 20 minutes Hundred was shown the experiments. 17 rooms housed lines various crops species, each being grown in different conditions. Variables included sunlight, infra-red light, nutrients, soil, water and even sound-scapes. Heavy metal seemed to be popular amongst tomatoes. It was explained that whilst the experiments were still in their early days, so far the results had been positive. Maximum efficiency in produce was the goal, and so far they had doubled output in both quantity and time taken to mature, in some of the shorter lived crops.

“Communication is the key,” Woodrue explains, leading him down the corridor. “There is evidence that plants sense sound waves, differently from fauna of course, but fundamentally comparisons can be drawn. Ideally if we could just ask the flora to grow in a certain way; which is where we come to...”

The Professor opens a door and leads Hundred in. In the middle large circular room sits a pedestal, on which a cube pulsates red light. Around it, in pots, a range of small plants grow, all of which seem to be growing towards the cube.

“Is this it?” asks the Mayor.

“You tell me,” Woodrue retorts, “you're the one who gave me the schematics.”

“It looked bigger in my dream, and not so...”

“Beautiful?” Woodrue tries.

“Red.” Hundred raises an eyebrows as he watches the Professor gaze at the cube. “Do you know how it works?”

“Not at all. I mean I can turn it on but,” Woodrue runs his hand trough his grey hair, “ it's sporadic, like it's waiting far something.”

Hundred steps towards it and the pulsating light picks up speed. As he takes another step, the light becomes more intense.

“Or someone..” whispers the Professor.

The Mayor looks back to Woodrue. “I'm impressed with your progress Professor. If we can use some of what your working on and help it to feed the city then I'm sold.” Looking at his watch, he shakes his head. “I must get going, I'm sorry I can't stay longer, I have to get going.”

“You'll stop by again soon though?” There was a slightly strained pleading to his voice.

The Mayor nods. “I'm sure I'll be by again before week's end.”

The Professor looks relieved. “Until then. I just need to check some data.” Walking over to one of the computers hooked up to the pedestal, he starts tapping.

“Well, I'll see myself out.”

Retracing his steps he finds his way through the labs, into the sealed chamber. Changing back into his jacket he opens the door and hits the button for the lift. As the bell sound signals the lift door opening, he steps in followed by Susan Linden-Thorne, the Professor's assistant. The doors shut and she presses floor 3.

“Fancy seeing you in here,” he says, smiling.

“Yes, fancy that.” Tucking her dark hair behind her ear, she looks sideways at him. “How long have we got?”

“Long enough,” he says. Turning, he lifts her body, pressing her against the wall. She wraps her legs around his waist, and her arms hug his neck, pulling his mouth to hers.

* * *

October: To Hell and Back


“Come on Matty, we're gonna be late,” Zee calls from the lounge. She taps her foot impatiently, her arms crossed.

“I look ridiculous,” Matty yells back. “Do we have to go to this thing?”

“Yes, especially as it was you that invited me to this thing, now get out here.”

“Ok, ok...” Matty sheepishly walks out of the second story bedroom door. His red boots hit the top stairs. He held out his arms, covered in blue, and turned on the spot, revealing his red cape. He looks down. “Are you sure the undies are supposed to be on the outside?”

“Oh yeah they are...” Zee bites her bottom lip and smiles. Wearing her nun costume, with her white dreadlocks covered by the black cloth, Matty has to admit he is a little turned on. As he makes it down the stairs, she comes to greet him, pulling on his the stylized “S” on his shirt to her and placing a kiss on his lips. She raises an eyebrow, “Who knew, an unassuming, hipster journalist secretly is... Superman.”

Matty and Zee laughs. Checking the time on his phone, he looks up. “Let's get to this fucking thing.”

*

The Metropolis Hallowed-Haunt party was something of a legend. No one knew who ran the event, who funded, or even organized it. The location changed every year, no one got to choose to go, invitations arrived to a chosen few, often the movers and the shakers of Metropolis, along with a seemingly random few. Letting others know about the event was a good way of never being invited again, and in the last few years the whole business had become more sophisticated.

Matty's invitation had come in the form of a small folded white card containing a digital scan-code. When scanned it showed a message inviting Matty “+ 1,” followed by a count down, which promised to reveal the location of the event at 10.30 that night on All-Hallows-Eve.

In the front seat of the Taxi, the driver looks back at Matty and Zee. “Where to?”

Matty checks his phone as the timer counts down to zero. Matty raises his eye-brows. “The Metrodale subway station, off Bolton St.”

Zee looks at the address. “I thought they closed that place.”

“Obviously not for tonight.”

*

The cab pulls up on Bolton. Zee and Matty step into the darkness, finding the street near abandoned. The buildings that line the road seem to be mostly boarded up and run-down. A lone homeless man sits nursing a bottle in a brown paper bag, huddled in layers of clothing, he seems to be dozing. As the cab pulls away, Zee and Matty make their way up the side walk looking for any evidence of an open entrance.

“What happened to this place?” Zee asks, Matty isn't sure if it's to him or to the world in general. “My mum used to work down here, we'd eat at a diner just down on the corner there.”

“I guess the recession hit some harder than others.”

“Spare some change?” The call comes from the homeless man, who looked up at them with dazed eyes.

Matty reaches into his wallet, stuffed into the back of his red underwear. Pulling out a 20 his gives it to the man. Zee looks in her purse for a card. Handing it to the man, she says, “There's a shelter about eight blocks from here, in Bakerlane. They'll take you in if you want.”

“Very kindly ma'am.” The hobo scratches at his curly grey beard. “You got your invitation?”

The nun and the superhero look at one another and Matty shows the man his smart-phone.

The homeless man smiles. “The main entrance was closed off a couple of years back, but there's a service entrance you can get through in the door over there.” He points to a red door in an old concrete building across the road. As the lights of another cab shine in the distance he waves his hand at them, “Scat now, before the others see 'n I don't get paid.”

Matty and Zee sprint across, pushing the door open and closed before the new cab stops. Panting, they both start laughing. Running down a set of stairs and through another blue door, they find themselves on an old subway platform. Surprisingly at least another dozen people are already waiting there. Between the toilet paper mummy, the devil, and what Zee guesses is supposed to be Miley Cyrus, the couple don't recognize anyone. Matty and Zee hold hands while around them the platform fills up.

Zee leans in to her boyfriends ear. “Is the party here?” Matty looks around and suspects everyone here is wondering the same question. He shrugs.

A horn sounds, some way down the tunnel, followed by the repetitive rattle of a subway train. With a hiss, a black painted train pulls up to the platform. The destination plates above the windows read “Hell” in glowing orange letters. Some of the carriages already have people in them.

“They must have been sent to other stops,” Matt says.

Out of the front carriage a man dressed as a pirate climbs out, his peg leg scraping on the concrete. In an exaggerated accent he calls to them, “Yaarr, I am Captain All-Beard and you are all about to be passengers on my ship. No smoking, eating or texting whilst on my ship. Any cellphones we see will be confiscated. That goes doubly for you Mr Mayor.” This elicits a laugh from everybody but Matty, who looks back to see Mayor Hundred, dressed as the masked hero Zorro. He smiles and waves innocently at the crowd. The pirate knocks on the train and the doors hiss open. “ALL ABOARD! Next stop the Hallowed-Haunt party!”

The crowd cheers. All except Matty.

*

The pirate ghost train took them to another couple of stops, both in closed sections of the city. The mood was jolly. Matty tried to play along, to ignore Zorro and his laughing companions, but he found his gaze drawn to the Mayor. It made him feel ill. When they finally reached their destination and the passengers started to disembark, Zee held him back.

“Are you alright?” She was doing her concerned eyes, the ones that made Matty find it difficult to lie. “Somethings up.”

He shook his head. “Just a little queezy, I'll be alright.”

She holds his gaze for a moment, before smiling. “You better be, come on, this is a night to remember.” She pulls him from the coach.

The final destination is a cave, a huge chasm covered in stalactites and spiderwebs. Matty imagines it would be the kind of place some dark brooding superhero would live in. Moving through and downwards the party is revealed. Continuing the hellish theme, long rows of orange flames line the wall, along with a couple of quite real looking skeletons. Half a dozen little people dressed as devils run about with pitchforks poking the guests. He tries to figure out whether it is more offensive or funny. In the distance he thinks he can hear the ocean.

Zee points to the bar. “Beer?,” she calls over the four piece rock band, made up of a witch, a vampire, a werewolf and a mummy. He nods and she disappears into the crowd.

Standing alone, he tries to see how many people he recognizes. A handful of celebrities, along with various politicians and influential people. Nearly everybody hear is somebody, artists, actors, directors, writers, lawyers...

“Imagine if this was all set up to distract these rich son's of bitches while we robbed them...”

The voices comes from Matty's right, he turns to see some kid in a black suit and a guy fawkes mask on. “You're not one of those anonymous dickheads are you?”

The moustached mask turns to look at him, then turns back to the party. “Don't you find it somewhat fitting that these people should be be partying it up in hell?”

Matty shrugs, and quickly tries to look for Zee. Unable to find her, his eyes once again find the Mayor and his stomach drops.

“I know what you're wondering,” the masked kid says. When Matty looks at his, he continues, “Why, of all people, was I invited to this party?” Superman crosses his arms, he had been wondering that. “You were invited because I wanted you here.”

Matty looks over the kid. Short, thin, he doesn't look or sound like an adult. “Are you even allowed to drink?”

The kid ignores the question. “You covered occupy, the unmasking of the Great Machine, the financial crisis, you stood up against the gentrification of Southside, and then you disappeared. The last thing you submitted was a movie review for 'the Interns'.”

“It's the feel-good movie of 2005.”

“You got scared, someone here scared you and I think I know who.” Matty feels his cheeks burning. He wishes he hadn't come to this over-rated party. Guy Fawkes continues. “The abandoned stops on the way here; they were all in places of Metropolis that used to be thriving. The people who live there now, used to live in Southside. Cleaning up the Suicide Slums hasn't improved the lives of the poor of Metropolis it's just made them move to the edges.” He points out to the crowd. “Do you think any of these people have had to move?” The journalist exhales, turning to the masked kid. “I want to give you three gifts.” Matty coughs. “One; this story. You're the only journalist invited to this party – use it; write the gonzo journalist piece and get back in the game.”

'Who is this kid?' Matty wonders.

“Two, this card.” Matty is handed an orange card with a large and complicated cross-reference code on it. “It's attached to a secure server with an active A.I., so you can do your work without fear of it being found.”

Matty rolls his eyes. “You do know who we are talking about right- the Ex Machina himself.”

“That's why I saved the best gift for last; a secret.” The mask wearing kid leans in to Superman's ear and whispers. Matty's eyes narrow, then widen. “Now all I want in return is for you to do what you're meant to be doing. Be a fucking journalist.”

“You wouldn't believe who I met at the bar, the actress from Grey's Anatomy!” Zee's voice brings him back to the present. “Who was that?”

“Uh...” Matty shakes his head. He sees the kid slip away into the crowd. “I'm not sure, I think it might be one of those 'One Direction' guys.”

“His mum should not let him out this late.” Matty nods, smiling. Zee hands him a drink and smiles also. “You look happier.”

“I am.” He looks down are the card in his hand, while he repeats the secret in his head: 'The Mayor's powers aren't working.'

* * *

November: Here's Trouble


“Take me through it again.”

Detective Olsen rolls his eyes. “So this girl walks into a bar...”

* *

The line for the Hell-Hole stretches out around the corner. Dozens of punks, posers and villain groupies stand leaning against the brick building. A couple of cops stand nearby, keeping an eye on things. There's little in the way of trouble out here, the real villains are on the inside.

She strides towards the bouncer, one thigh-high black boot hits the pavement, followed by the other. Her blond hair tied in two long pigtails, sways side to side from under her black and gray helmet, pink visor still covering her eyes. Stopping in front of the bouncer, she lifts her large eyes to look up at the intimidating bouncer.

“Hey, no pushing!” She turns and looks at the young man, his black hair spiked with greasy gel, waiting in the long line, with a petite asian girl with red hair. She narrows her eyes and looks at his cellphone.

Turning to the girl the blond raises an eyebrow. “He's texting a girl named 'Candy', they're planning to hook up when he's done here.”

The Asian girl slaps the spiked haired guy. “My sister!” He leaps back, hands held up in defence.

The blond then returns to the bouncer and bats her black eyelashes, while smiling sweetly. He grunts and lets her through. '

Inside the club is dark, music thuds and with it the happy young and the desperate old, dance with diliated pupils and medicated grins. She...

* *

“Back up,” Detective Turpin scratches his head, “she knew what he'd been typing?”

The younger detective shrugs. “The witness reckoned she was psychic.”

“I suppose we've had weirder.” Turpin folds his arms. “And the bouncer let her in because..?”

“Well, I guess he figured her to be a groupie or something...”

“Groupie?” Turpin asks.

“As you know the Hell-Hole is something of a villain's club- mostly small-fries, but the occasional big timer. Lots of people come to these places just to have a chance to spot one,” Olsen explains. “There's conventions for them, fan-sites, that doesn't even touch the sides of the shit that goes down on tumblr.” At his partner's blank look, he gets back on topic. “Some people, fans, are into cosplay... costumes, they like to dress up, often try and get attention of the villains.”

“And according to the bouncer she was wearing...”

“Black and hot pink leather, and some sort of motorcycle helmet.”

Turpin shakes his head. “Maybe I need to become a villain.”

* *

Music thuds, people dance, the blond looks around the club. Pickings are thin, but finally amongst the green and pink flashing lights she spots a table at the top of the stairs. At it a single man, in some sort of bug costume, sits surrounded by women. She dances her way through the crowd, as men who grind against her find their cell's mysteriously start to smoke. At the stairs, she leans in and kisses an awkward looking guy, taking his beer as his cheeks flushed red. She downs it as she makes her way up.

Above the dance floor, the music is slightly less all-consuming, allowing slightly-shouted conversations to be audible. Each of the tables is lit neon-blue, and at each of them obscure costumed men sit, surrounded by girls. She can't name most of them, one man in an armidillo suit sits, nursing a beer, all alone. She moves to the table with the most women sitting at it, in the middle of which sits, “FIREFLY!” She holds her hand to her smiles as she dances on the spot. “Is it really you!?”

Firefly turns to the newcomer, his helmeted eyes scanning her top to bottom. “Indeed it is, sweet girl, and who might you be?”

She swivels on the spot, sticking her butt out and lifting her shoulders. “Only, like, your biggest fan... I feel like I'm dreaming.” She giggles, nervously,

Firefly leans back and wraps his arms around the girls either side of him. “Well take a seat pretty lady. Here at the Hell-Hole, if you drink with me – you drink for free.”

“Oh,” the blond giggles again, “I'm not sure if I should drink any more, I'm feeling pretty light headed.” She put the empty beer bottle on the table. “Does anyone know where the little girl's room is?” Looking down at her leather outfit, shakes her head, “Shit, it's going to be so hard unzipping this thing...”

Firefly leaps up. “Let me show you darling.” He steps over the table and takes her arm, leaving a table full of hate-filled stares.

* *

“So what's the time frame for all of this?” Turpin asks.

Olsen looks over the report. “Sprinklers went off at 1.23.”

“Sprinklers?”

* *

Firefly rips off his helmet and lifts the blond's visor, kissing her hard on the mouth. She pushes him against the cubicle door and starts unbuckling his suit.

“Holy shit girl, you are wild!”

“You're the hottest man alive!” She grins and starts undoing his belt. “You command flames, burn buildings...”

“You haven't seen anything yet!” He shimmies off his jacket.

“You're so smart too.” She stands and leans in close to his face. “I bet you even know who shot the Mayor...” His pants drop to the ground.

“That guy?” He rolls his eyes. “The Rainbow Archer; that fudge-packer doesn't even come up to the club, he spends all his gambling down below.”

He tries to kiss her again but she places a finger on his lips. “Gambling?”

Firefly nods. “There's a game down in the club's basement.” He starts to push her head downwards. “Suck me real good and I might show you around.”

On her knees she looks down. “Oh.” Lifting a small metal pistol, she raises an eyebrow. “What's this?”

“No, put that down, you don't know what that d...”

* *

“3rd degree burns over his chest and groin.”

Turpin sucks air through his teeth while his face contorts with empathetic pain.

“Mr Ted Carson got burnt.” Olsen looks out over the club. “I suppose if you play with fire...”

“Don't,” Turpin says, “you're better than that.”

* *

Firefly bursts through the bathroom door and runs screaming, his lowered pants on fire. Behind him strolls the blond. Water rains down from the sprinklers above. Half the clubbers run, whilst the other half keep dancing. She swings off the upper level barrier and drops onto the level below. Amidst the chaos she makes her way to the staff only door. Slipping inside she finds a corridor, at the end of which a set of stairs lead downwards.

A large black guy throws a chip into the pool. He looks up at the noise above and shakes his head. “Fucking Firefly, dickhead always sets off the damned things off.”

The old Asian man adds his chips. “He's a fool. Ignore him.”

An olive skinned man with a large moustache taps his cards. Beside him a bow leans against the table, on the back of his chair, a quiver. He suddenly looks up at the staircase. “Did you hear that?”

The old Asian man waves his hand. “Stop stalling, play your hand.”

The lights go out.

“What's happening?”

Guns are drawn.

A voice calls out. “JAM”

The guns click, no longer able to fire. Someone pulls out a cellphone to provide light. The shape of a girl in leather runs at them.

“OFF”

The light disappears. Five 'twangs' sound as the Rainbow Archer lets loose his arrows. Someone screams, but it's not a female voice. A gambler flies over a table, another loses a couple of teeth to a boot in the face. The archer finds himself on the table, staring out into the darkness, listening carefully for any sound. “Who are you?”

The beeping of a cellphone and he shoots. His arrow finds its target, unfortunately it is in the pocket of one of the gamblers.

“This is a villains club.”

He shoots again but is distracted by another cellphone going off.

“And I'm the new hero.”

Suddenly he hears the sound of his bow string being cut. He grabs for a glow tube and cracks it, finding her standing right in front of him. She is so young. “What do you want?”

Smiling sweetly, she tilts here head. “I just need you to deliver a message.” She kicks the table from under them.

* *

The Rainbow Archer's tongue pokes out from his mouth, swollen. His body gently swings from the rope that hangs from a grappling hook, attached to a pipe. His skin is a sickly gray.

“Dead approximately five and a half hours, which puts the time of death just around 1.30.”

Turpin looks over the items around the table. “And nothing on the I.D.?”

“Nope, the man don't even seem to have fingerprints, burned them off probably.” Olsen points at the quiver. “Arrows seem to match the ones found in the Mayor. Same custom design, same coloured stripes.”

Turpin's nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath. At that moment Commissioner Angotti walks down the stairs into the crime scene. She looks about, “Four dead and a man set on fire, what the fuck is going on here?!”

Detective Turpin looks up at the note pinned to the hanged man's chest.

'MANNHEIM YOU'RE NEXT'

He sighes, “Trouble.”