Post by jackalope on May 30, 2012 22:18:44 GMT -5
Ultimate S.H.A.D.E. #18
Monster Street, part 1
Monster Street, part 1
“Comment ca va?” His voice is rough, stretched thin and tried.
Laura De Mille gives a painful smile, her face still puffy and swollen. “Bien. Good,” she coughs; her own voice is just as broken sounding. “Well... better. You're speaking French.”
Dr Brun shrugs. “We are both from there originally. I find it easier to think in French,” he makes a little gesture with his hand- suggesting he has no idea where the thought was going. “I'm so glad you are feeling better.” Adjusting his glasses, for a moment, whilst masking wiping his eye, he continues. “For a moment I was worried.”
Laura looks around her room. Standard hospital-style, even with windows- though she knew the sky on the other side was projected, S.H.A.D.E. H.Q. existed almost solely underground. Still it was a nice thought. She looks back to Brun. “Thank you Jules, really. I know I'm alive and here because of you.”
“Well,” Brun looks down, “not just me, obviously, others...”
“Hope I'm not interrupting,” a voice interrupts, followed by its speaker swaggering into the room.
“...Time?” Laura's eyes look up and down over the man who grinned back at her. “You're Indian...”
“I think we prefer the term... Native American,” Time says adjusting his head-dress. He holds his arms open. “What do you think?”
“I think the Village People wants their fifth member back...” Laura tries to keep her face straight but laughter sweeps the room.
Time smiles gently. “I'm glad you're awake, and alive, I've missed you Miss De Mille.” He points to Brun. “Of course this means you can get back to work. I have a meeting I'm dreading I have to get to. I don't trust Niles running my labs, and with Kirk missing we're a little short of brain power.”
“Kirk's missing?” Laura tries to sit up, but collapses back.
Father Time shakes his head, the feathers wobbling above him. Rubbing his eyes, he waves his other hand at her. “It's a long story and you've been gone a while. Stuff has happened while you were gone; there'll be some catching up to do.” He points behind himself to the doorway, as a greenish-hued lady appears. “I'm sure Bride will fill you in. Dr Brun?”
Jules stands up and starts to follow the Native American. Pausing he looks back, she nods.
* * *
“Now, when President I will use my position to make these so-called Super-heroes answer clearly to the American people!” The crowd claps and the chiselled man smiles out at the crowd.
The camera skips back to the commentator, who leans into his microphone. “And you Governor Rantorus, what is your opinion of the Super-Human situation?”
“Ungodly Freaks and Demonic Pretenders!” The crowd roars with support.
Lyta looks to Robotman and points at the television. “I can't believe it's down to these two candidates, I mean really.”
Robert shakes his head. “It's doubtful either can beat President Harper. He's done well.”
Niles rolls his eyes. “Don't underestimate people capability for stupidity...” He goes back to tapping his thumbs on his mini-game.
“Shouldn't you be working?” Lyta asks with a slight annoyance in her voice.
His eyes flick to her. “Who says I'm not.”
Lyta huffs and gets up. “I'm gonna go see if Frankenstein needs any help.”
“Frankenstein's monster has gone hunting,” he tilts his head, “or was it recruiting? I can never tell here...”
“He's on his own?”
Niles looks at her with a mild confusion. “One: he's Frankenstein, so what if he is?” He turns back to his game device. “And two: No, the Weird is with him.”
Lyta does not look reassured.
* * *
Frankenstein sits back, his hands lying on the hilt of the Sword of Archangel Michael standing in the metal floor in front of him. Things were easier when he was just slaying demons, he reminisces.
Accessing S.H.A.D.E. database >> access.level**Alpha_12.001}#57{. The buzzing feeling makes his eye twitch. Field report= location.Star_City; Unknown:Entities.-.Numbers:Unknown.- .Species:Unknown. -.Casulties:4.Dead., 37.Missing. .Precise_location:Unconfirmed. He growls. Useless.
His eyes flick to the S.H.A.D.E. field agent sitting in the chopper opposite him. In full field Kevlar, the woman, in her late twenties, is sitting uncomfortably- trying not to look at the Weird, who was sitting beside her, staring at her whilst crunching on Nachos. Frankenstein searches. Field_Agent_00844237. Clearance:Episilom. >Name:Alexis_Brink. .Powers:None. .Age:29. .H.I.F;178. .Blood_type:A. >D.O.B....
“Weird.” The Weird turns to the gruff mention of his name, but continues eating, the bottom half of his neon purple mask lifted to allow easy access to his mouth. “Agent Brink may not feel it professional for you to stare in that manner.”
The Weird turns back to the human woman, with a sudden concern. “CHRUReally?” he says still crunching away, orange crumbs falling down his costume. “You can have some if you like... they're flavour on another level...” He looks at the bag, “apparently.”
She subtly shakes her head. “No thanks, I'm fine.” The Weird shrugs and goes back to eating; now staring at Frankenstein.
“Agent,” Frankenstein asks, “you were with the first team?” She nods, her face set grim. He grunts. “The field report submitted is somewhat bare. No precise location...”
She coughs and looks at his blade that shines unnaturally in front of her. “The street itself was not present on any maps, when we scanned the overhead city maps it did not appear either. Its location seems to have somehow pushed itself into the city, without displacing any other locations. It had the Science monkeys baffled. The Squid-kissers reckon its part of the creatures' manifestation.”
Frankenstein's eyes narrow. “Squid-kiss..?”
“Oh,” Agent Brink smiles, “that's what we call the Occult division. That or the DM's- you know 'Dungeon Masturb...” She coughs again, avoiding his eye contact.
“Master battlers!” the Weird concludes, “Amazing.”
The huge blue-hued Agent looks at the woman. “What did you encounter on the ground?”
“It's hard to describe,” she says, as her gloved hand scratches her cheek. “Monsters?”
Frankenstein leans forward. “What form did these monsters take?”
Her eyes finally met his. “I dunno. Nothing like I'd ever seen before.” Her eyebrows push together as she thinks, “but strangely familiar.”
“Hmmm.” Frankenstein mulls on this quietly, the only other sound in the silent chopper that of corn chips being munched.
The Weird stops and turns to Agent Brink. “What do they call field agents, the ones like you with the guns but no powers or special knowledge and stuff?”
The woman turns to him with a faint smile. “Bait.”
* * *
“How am I even supposed to trust that you are who you say you are, Father Time?” The balding man in the glasses asks.
The Native American man smiles as he strolls, moving through the bustling corridors filled with the drones of the S.H.A.D.E. colony. “Mr Peters, I'm sure someone as smart as you can figure something like that out for yourself.”
“Yes, well, ah,” the man scurries faster to catch up like the feather wearing man. “I'm here on behalf of the Harper Administration to make sure S.H.A.D.E.s funding is going to good use.”
“It is,” says Father Time, holding his hand up to a scanner. A huge door opens.
“Well, the thing is that you say that, asking me to take you on your word, but if you're not who you say you are...” The man adjusts his glasses and lifts his eyebrow. “Well you see my dilemma.”
“Actually I don't.” Time walks through the doorway, entering what looks like a subway station. Some of the S.H.A.D.E. employees, dressed in a wide range of colours and styles, nod to Father Time, who smiles and waves back. A short goblin-looking type creature in a red Hawaiian shirt and a baseball cap, gives a thumbs up. Father Time turns the Presidential Liaison and explains, “it's Casual Friday.”
“As I was saying, the dilemma is that since its conception during the Second World War, the budget for the Super Human Advanced Defence Executive has grown exponentially, as has the size and power. The Administration wishes to make sure that its investments are well placed,” Mr Peters locks eyes with Father Time, not breaking even when a huge black train pulls up to the platform. “Or whether their money might do a better service elsewhere.”
Father Time shakes his head and steps up onto the train. “What like Checkmate?” The man follows him on to the train, into what seems like a private compartment. The Native American continues, “I'm sure you'd love to pour money into a team which is effectively the U.N. with superpowers... Or the J.S.A., Justice Society of America- are they on the payroll? Last time I heard it was a bunch of kids and senior citizen holed up in a rich kid's Mansion.” He smiles, as a staff member offers him a cup of tea. “And I hear that Project Heracles and Project Robin Hood are going swimmingly.”
The Administration representative rocks forward as the train starts moving. He presses his lips thin, placing his suitcase on his knees before continuing. “I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about but if I did, I would say those are highly classified pieces of information not meant for anyone whose clearance isn't...”
“Supremely high?” Father Time suggests, “So high that one may asks themselves, who sorts the classifications of the information in the first place?” He sips his tea before continuing, “Perhaps an outside organisation with no bias except keeping as many bad guys as possible away from power?”
Taking a second to compose himself, Mr Peters speaks, “At the President's request, I have come to...”
“Does the President even know S.H.A.D.E. exists?” Time interrupts, “Because the last seven certainly didn't. And I don't plan on letting any of the idiots who may be voted in next on finding out.”
“The amount of money...”
“The amount of money is negligible compared to what I have put into this organisation. The U.S. contribution accounts for less than 8.5% of the total operating budget. One of the benefit of being an immortal for over a thousand years, I have very deep pockets.” Finishing his tea, he put the cup down, his gaze meeting that of the rather surprised Mr Peters. “Now let’s not beat around the bush, you're here on a fact-finding mission. The pentagon boys want to know whether we're hard at work or hardly working. Well I'll show you, give you a few pamphlets to take back with you, but you have to realise this is me doing you a favour, so enough with the threats. You think S.H.A.D.E. has been around for 60 years? Let me tell you, it's been around in some form or another for a lot longer than that.”
Mr Peters nods.
* * *
The S.H.A.D.E. helicopter lands. Huge black boots hit the pavement, followed by two purple ones which float down slowly. Frankenstein looks around. S.H.A.D.E. has set up a perimeter, disguised as a construction site. S.H.A.D.E. agents are guarding the metallic walls, speakers point out playing the sounds of jack hammering and wielding. Agent Brink steps down from the helicopter behind them, slipping around them and walking up to another agent.
“Agent Frankenstein, this is Professor Chen, he's heading up the Science division on site. He'll fill you in on what we know.”
Frankenstein leers down at the bespectacled man. “What do we know Professor Chen?”
“Hypothetically time and space can curve creating pockets of interdemensional space that are effectively...” His eyes widen at the huge man, as he stares the scars across his face. “Which is to say, we really don’t know what we’re dealing with?”
A grumbling noise rumbles from Frankenstein’s throat. He turns to the Weird. “With me.” Marching towards the street entrance, S.H.A.D.E. agents part way. The Weird hands an empty bag of nachos to the Professor and follows. Agent Brink sighs and follows too.
They stop at the point at which the plain grey concrete seems to morph into a cracked dark pavement. The old glass buildings become tall brick buildings. The sky within is a solid white overcast cloud, remarkably different from the clear blue visage that covers the rest of the sky. He looks down to the female agent. “You are not required to come Agent Brink.”
“I left the rest of my team in there, I'm responsible.” She checks her gun is loaded and then looks at him with a smile. “Besides, you might need bait.”
“Look.” The Weird points. An old fashioned green street sign stands in the middle of the pavement. “Same Street.” He floats up to look at it, “Same as what?”
Frankenstein continues into the unoccupied area. Something strange about the street. Sword held in his hand, he looks about. In the dark windows he spots moving shadows. A faint laugh echoes from further down the street. Watching the darkened area ahead as he slowly walks, he notices what is wrong. The perspective is wonky. Even moving towards it, it shifts unnaturally, the darkened vanishing point not getting any closer or becoming any clearer.
“I hear singing.”
The voice makes Frankenstein spin around, sword bared, only to see the Weird floating in the air. The alien holds his hands up. Frankenstein bares his teeth and flares his nostrils. “Your lack of restraint can be dangerous in the field.”
“But I did,” the Weird complains. “Look.” Two small furry figures bound across the street behind Frankenstein, who turns only to miss them.
“There was something there,” Alexis confirms. Frankenstein glares around.
A sing-song chant echoes faintly around. “...how to get home? Can you tell...”
Suddenly a small red creature, like a furry monkey, but with a bigger earless head, pokes his head out from behind a stairway a few feet away from them. The creature looks them over, with unnaturally big eyes and releases a high pitched laugh.
“What is it?” asks Brink.
“It's a cute widdle monkey thing,” says the Weird, waving at it.
The creature squats, putting its furry little hand underneath it. Then holding the smelly brown thing it hefts it, catching Frankenstein square in the face. Its high pitched laughter echoes out again and it runs. Frankenstein runs after it. Looking at each other, his companions follow too.
Frankenstein chases the quick thing, which leaps from building to building, jumping steps and using streetlamps as objects to swing from. The pursuing agent leaps trash cans, ignoring the shadowy faceless figures in the strangely sparse shops. The Weird and Agent Brink try to keep pace.
More figures start to appear, in the distance and in the corners of the buildings. Some are faceless, wearing trench coats or suits, others are furry, short or tall, they are covered in bright coloured fur. Ahead of them Alexis sees what looks like the shadow of a rabbit on a brick wall, behind a corner street, that the small red beast leaps around. She tries to yell a warning but the blue stitched giant is in no mood.
Arriving at the corner, they turn to see Frankenstein heaving breath, standing in a circle of light cast down by some sort of spotlight- the surrounding area is completely dark. The small creature stands in front of him, dancing on the spots in an oddly bouncy manner. The Archangels sword is pointed towards the creature, held in both hands. Brink walks to him and places a hand on his back. “I don't think killing him will help anything...” Frankenstein looks to her face. He lowers his weapon.
“Hey check this guy out.” They turn to see the Weird, pointing out into the dark. The creature starts to waddle into the light. 12 feet tall, the bird-like creature turns its head on its long neck to gaze at them with lolling eyes.
“Food for her babies,” it spits from a long pointed beak.