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Our Paranormal Chernobyl
Scene 28: Unlinking
Tuesday, 1:25 pm, Jewel Food Stores

Crossfire’s voice was coming from somewhere behind the gray cloud in Jack’s mouth. Jack pursed his lips slightly and exhaled. It was nothing like the gale-force blow that had knocked out the store windows, but the smoke streamed out into the parking lot and dissipated quickly. When the smoke cleared, they saw Crossfire crawling out over Jack’s broad tongue and platter-sized teeth.

When Crossfire was completely clear, Jack said, "Sorry ‘bout that."

"Holy…." That was as far as Ferreras got. Truth was, he really didn’t know what else to say.

At last, Ed could see again. Sight had returned to him reluctantly, in vague outlines and brief bursts of light and color, and as he blinked his eyes and tried to focus on the scene before him, he felt a twinge of fear crawl down his spine. What if they blinded him again? What if they thought he caused this shit, and locked him up? He could sense the relief pouring from everyone around him, relief centered on Crossfire. Fuck Ed, let’s just blind his ass and leave him lying there like a fucking dog. But Red gets in a bind, and everyone stands in line to be the first to say, "Poor baby!"

That’s not what’s going on here Eddie, and you know it, came Gram’s sensible voice from the back of his mind. But he pushed it away, slammed it behind mental vaults of steel. He was tired of this. He’d just fucking got to this city, and here he was, tied up, suit only saved by the weak shields that still flickered around him, almost broke….

He supposed he should be grateful that they’d at least kept the freak from pounding him into hamburger. Of course, if they hadn’t fucking lassoed him, he wouldn’t have needed their help.

Shit.

He licked his lips, and waited, eyes flicking from one person to the next. He’d never wanted to fry someone more than he did right now. Never. But that would be playing right into their hands. Time to play the good boy. Time to be their puppy, time to cringe and apologize and all that crap. Later he’d make it right. Oh yeah, he damn sure would. After all, they had to sleep sometime, and when they did, he’d enter their dreams, learn their secrets, and humiliate them like they’d humiliated him.

Starting with Red….

Pender turned, realizing her partner had recovered; over his shoulder, about ten feet behind him, Ed was still down and bound.

"Things seem to be under control here for now," she said, half-directing this to Jack as well. "See to the kid—make sure he’s okay. We’re going to need him."

Ferreras nodded, about-faced, and started toward the incapacitated meta.

Pender returned her attention back to Jack and Crossfire. All this, she reflected, just to figure out what went on here….

"Just have a seat, Jack, and relax. I’ll be with you in a moment. Crossfire, could I have a word with you?"

"I’m still hungry," Jack rumbled. His voice had the desperate edge of junkie.

"Somebody take care of him." She wasn’t talking to anyone in general, but she expected that if the SWAT team had any brains, one of them would comply. It irritated her, though, that they had to be told how to handle the situation.

Mehldau and Grodenko, however, didn’t need to be told to keep an eye on the giant. As Pender walked past she exchanged a knowing glance with them and slung her gas-shell launcher over one shoulder. She flashed her badge and reintroduced herself, in case such formality was necessary.

"Acting Silver Avenger Laura Pender. What’s going on here, Crossfire?"

Detective Waters had come over from behind the squad car. His pistol was still out, but he looked to the archer to hear his answer.

Crossfire looked away from Pender’s badge over to where the kid lay on the ground wrapped in netting. His vision had cleared—Jonathan knew that much from the look Ed had given him he’d caught out the corner of his eye. He looked back to the PRIMUS agent and grimaced. "To say this situation is way past the point of being fucked up would be an understatement, although it seems calm now." Crossfire jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "But I wouldn’t let the kid loose quite yet. If not for him, a lot of this wouldn’t have happened."

"Let me back up a bit here. The guy’s name is Ed. He’s an esper and he's been a lot of help today. But the kid’s got some issues with stability."

"Yeah, things’re tough all over." She looked back at Ed, still bound. Ferreras seemed to be trying to talk some sense into him; whether or not he was making any headway was something else entirely.

"Now as far as this situation goes…" Jonathan paused, unsure of where to start. He’d never had dealings with PRIMUS before, but he’d heard plenty of gripes about them from cops before. Still, Waters hadn’t been much help in all this. If Hammersmith had been here the whole deal might have played out smoothly, but…. "We got here to handle another surprise metahuman on the scene. Jack over there wanted nothing more than food, so the supermarket seemed like a good idea to him. Problem is, the folks inside didn’t think too much of the company.

"I went inside with Waters’ permission to bring him out—" 

Waters stared at Crossfire as if the archer were speaking Sumerian.

"—and the police here were going to arrange for more food to be brought. Waters came in to—" Jonathan paused and gave Waters a look. "—back me up."

Waters continued to stare at him.

"Bringing out Jack was going fine, despite the fact he’s a tad upset right now, like we all sure as shit wouldn’t be. That’s when Ed pulled whatever he did on him. Jack’s already been turned into a meta against his will and the kid’s gotta pull shit like that. I got mad, my fault, and took Ed out. Safely. Problem is, Jack wasn’t done playing with Ed yet, not that I can blame him. That’s when it all got out of control."

Jonathan turned to the big man. "I’m sorry Jack, I just didn’t want you to get hurt trying to dish back a little of what Ed deserved."

Jack took this in, then looked at the two PRIMUS agents guarding him. "But he shot me," Jack said quietly, as if trying to reason through a particularly complicated story problem. "And then he kicked me. Right?"

"Just hold on," Pender said over her shoulder; maybe she sounded impatient. Out of the corner of her eye she could see what had been a car before Jack landed on it. "We’ll get to you when we get to you."

"As far as the rest of today goes, talk to Waters here. Me, I just want to get back to the station. We’ve got a lead on how folks are being turned into metas, possibly a way to track those that are causing it and maybe the thing that’s making them this way to begin with. The sooner we figure all that out, the sooner we help Jack. But if you let the kid go, fine. Just keep him a far way from me cause I ain’t playing his game anymore."

People turned into metas… nice. Home sweet home. She still wasn’t quite sure what to do with that, or how to respond, but fortunately, she didn’t have to.

Waters held up a hand before Pender could answer. "Let me take this." He touched a finger to his lips and gazed at the pavement, as if sifting for the precise words. Crossfire could see the muscles in the man’s jaw working: he was seething. After a long moment the Detective looked up and said, "Go home. Both of you. Now."

"Fine. Send the pajamas away. But you and I," Pender continued, "you and I, Detective, do this for a living. We know how to handle this situation—we already have handled this here today. Let the professionals wrap this up."

"Wait a second. Let me get this straight. You’re asking me to go, Waters?" Crossfire shook his head in disbelief. "Listen. I’m only in Chicago for personal reasons. I’m in this because I happen to have a thing against innocent people being murdered. So Ed overreacted, so I overreacted, so Jack overreacted." Crossfire looked over at the man, his hangdog expression still drawing his huge mouth downwards. "I’m sorry I kicked you, sorry I hit you, all right? I tried talking to you. But no, you were off to go play ‘tag’ with the kid back there! Did you want the cops shooting at you?"

Jonathan turned back to Waters. "Shit, even you overreacted, Waters! You want to get pissed off? Fine, start by looking in a mirror. You were okay one second with Ed and I getting Jack out of the supermarket, then the next second you’re ready to gas his ass out of there. I’m sick of this bullshit. I’ll leave alright, but only to go talk to Hammersmith. At least he’s reasonable."

Crossfire continued on without waiting for a reply. "Pender, all you’ve done is step in our pile of shit and help clean it up. I’m getting tired of drawing lines in the sand. I just want to help Jack and keep this from happening again. Some kind of experiment is being carried out on people. You want to turf me? Fine. But I’ll be following all of you anyway. It’ll make for an interesting parade."

Waters raised an eyebrow a millimeter, then glanced at Acting Silver Avenger Pender. "You want to take this one?"

She sighed. No.

"Go ahead," she said. "Follow. I like parades and shit-piles as much as anyone else. Just don’t get in the way again—starting now."

"No problem. Just don’t let Waters near his common sense. I wouldn’t touch it with my bare hands considering where it’s been all day. Anyway, you’ll all be catching up to me soon." Jonathan reached for his bow and plucked a line arrow out from the quiver. He let the shaft fly. When it bit into the brick of his target, Crossfire then grabbed onto the cable and tugged, triggering the return motor. "Later."

As he lifted into the air, he swung his body around and fired another arrow up even higher. The sooner he gained altitude, the faster he could swing. As his body arced out to maximize the swing movement, Jonathan scanned the streets below and looked for the way back to the station. Stokes would have learned something more by now.

Let the others wallow in their own bullshit, Blake thought. His work with the government hadn’t seemed this screwed up compared to the simple situations encountered today. Gotta be the kid.

Ed was bad luck for Jonathan. Whatever he tried to do around him either backfired or just ended up causing more grief than it was worth. At least the anti-rabbit’s foot was still trussed up in the netting, though it wouldn’t surprise him if the little miscreant chewed his own arms off to get out.

Ferraras knelt beside the mound of netting and asked, "Hey kid… you all right?"

Ed thought about toasting the bastard. Even had a vivid mental image of the man writhing around on the ground in front of him, hands clutched to the side of his head, face turning red. Serve the asshole right, in Ed’s opinion. What dumbass would ask a question like that?

Why sure, Officer Asswipe. I’m only tied up on the ground, eyes half-burned from my head, with some animal-mutant-freak that wants to eat me about twelve feet away. I’m doing just swell. But how is your day going? Ed considered saying.

Instead he kept his mouth shut and simply nodded. He watched as everyone turned to Crossfire for all the answers, leaving Ed tied on the fucking ground. This day just got better and better.

"Well… good." Ferreras could just about feel the waves of resentment coming off him, and felt strangely awkward about the two of them having a conversation. A long pause and a nod… not a good sign. He wasn’t supposed to experience this until he had kids of his own. "Sorry about the netgun—things were happening fast, and we didn’t have time to… well, y’know. We’ll get that sorted out right away."

Eat shit and die, Ed thought.

"No problem," Ed said.

"Being blinded’s a kick in the ass, eh? I don’t know about you, but for a while there all I could see was stars." He paused, then added, "That wasn’t one of ours, y’know."

Ed merely nodded again. He could see the bitch who’d ordered him shot talking to Crossfire and Waters a few yards away, and wondered what was going on. He watched as everyone turned to Crossfire for all the answers, leaving Ed tied on the fucking ground. This day just got better and better.

Ferreras shared his point of view, but had a somewhat different perspective. Laura—Silver Avenger Pender, he corrected himself—was already in the thick of things, simultaneously taking care of the possibly-dangerous giant with one hand and the probably-troublesome crimefighter with the other, with Waters looking over her shoulder. Meanwhile, he was sitting there with nothing more than a bound, copper-eyed kid who’d clearly seen better times, finding himself unable to look past the young man’s incapacitation enough to get down to business. Seeing Pender goaded him into action. Time to take the initiative.

"I’ll be honest with you, kid. We need to piece together just what the hell went on here today, which means we need to talk to you. I’ll help you out of that netgun mess, then we’ll shake hands and you can tell me what happened. I’ll do whatever I can to make things right from here on out if you’ll help me with what I need to know." Not exactly the tack Laura would’ve taken—she didn’t have much patience with metas, and Ferreras got the impression that this kid fit the bill—but it seemed appropriate to the circumstances. "Deal?" he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

A thousand replies to this… this… farce were born and died on Ed’s lips in an instant. He honestly couldn’t believe that this asshole thought he could just shake hands and make it all better. What the hell planet was he from?

Still, pissing off the people with the heat was never a wise tactic. And besides, he wanted to leave. Wanted that very badly in fact, and the only way he could see that happening was if he cooperated with this smiling goon.

"Sure," Ed said with a shrug. "Whatever."

Close enough. Ferreras went to work on the netting, and within a few moments Ed was free. "Field Agent Sal Ferreras," he said, offering his hand—as promised—half-afraid the kid would bite it off.

Ed felt like… like one of those deer he’d seen on TV at Gram’s. Half of him wanted to run, just turn tail and leave, vanish into the city like he knew he could. But then he’d hear one of those guns go off, and he’d be tied again, on the ground, at their mercy.

He looked at the outstretched hand and felt like biting it off.

Fuck.

He shook the guy’s hand, but made it quick. He kept his face calm, avoided eye contact ‘cause he knew the guy could see how pissed he was. He mainly looked at the ground, or at the cop cars, or at the buildings. Anywhere but at the people. That way he wouldn’t have to see Red, see that chick, see the freak… see any of them.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked simply.

"Well, you can start by telling me what happened here."

"You a cop?"

"You a cop?"

"Nope—sorry, should’ve made that clear to begin with." Ferreras was hoping he wouldn’t have to be so formal, but… such is the way of things. Out came the badge. "PRIMUS Field Agent Salvadore Ferreras. We usually get called in on this kind of thing."

"It’s real simple: the cops asked me and Red along to try and get that… thing over there to come outside and stop breaking shit. Uh, stuff. Then Red came up with this plan of going in and talking to the guy, and if that didn’t work I was gonna put him to sleep."

Ed looked at the torn netting that had been holding him and had to chew his lip. Fuckers.

"It didn’t work. I tried telling the guy to calm the hell down and he kind of… attacked me down the link. So I tried to put him to sleep, and he didn’t like it so he started screaming. The next thing I know, Red’s blinding me, you guys are tying me up, and I really don’t want to talk about it anymore."

He glared up at the agent, fighting to remain in control. "That about covers it from my end."

"I guess it does," Ferreras managed. The conflict in Ed’s copper eyes was disturbingly visible, and the young meta’s tone and demeanor was having an all-too apparent effect on the PRIMUS agent. "Let me… uh, let me just get your contact information, in case we need… well, in case we need you again."

"My what?" Ed asked incredulously. "Look man, I just got here like, this morning. I haven’t had time to find a house, look for a job, get a phone. Fuck man, I’ve done nothin’ but run around, save people and get shot by the good guys."

"No problem." Ferreras was quick to reply in the face of Ed’s newly-freed hostility. This kid was having a bad day, and he suddenly realized that no matter what he said now, he was bound to make it worse. "I didn’t know that—"

Out of the corner of his eye Ed saw Crossfire arc gracefully around the side of a building across the street. "You get his contact information man?" Ed said angrily, jerking his thumb at the red-garbed hero.

"I’m sure SA Pender went through the same thing with him that I’m going through with you. Standard procedure. So, if you just got into town—"

"You want me to find out what the freak knows, fine—I’ll scan his brain and let you know what I find. But after that, I am out of here, and if I never run into you PRIMUS jerkoffs again, it’ll be too soon!" Ed’s voice was low but emphatic. He didn’t want the cops to hear him bitching this guy out, cause they might shoot him. But… Jesus! This guy was acting like nothing had just happened.

Edward! his grandmother’s mental voice admonished.

Ed winced and closed his mouth , almost instinctively saying, "Sorry, Gram," to the PRIMUS agent. Fuck. He was going crazy. Great.

"The freak—the giant, you mean? Scan his mind?" Ferreras had been trying to make sense of everything Ed had told him about Crossfire and their plan to "put Jack to sleep," but the logistics of it hadn’t made much sense, until now. A seemingly-unregistered, transient, hostile young mentalist… this could be Bad. Pender’d have to talk to him; they’d probably take Ed back to headquarters, maybe run a few tests, get some hard data down on him. Yes, Ferreras thought—that’d be a necessity.

Then he took another look at Ed, and considered the odds of all that going down peacefully. That, he decided, is what Silver Avengers are for.

"So you’re an esper, then?" he asked.

Ed stared at the man incredulously. "No shit," he said through gritted teeth. "What did you think I was, Superman?" He couldn’t believe this was happening. This guy, this guy—he had no clue and he was calling the shots?

"Yeah, I’m an esper. I read minds, I move things around…." He sighed and rubbed at his eyes again. God he missed his glasses. "Let’s get this over with, huh? I’m tired."

"Right." Ferreras was starting to think that "Ed" might be short for "Edgy," and Edgy here was beginning to get to him.

"Hold on just a second. I’ll have to talk to SA Pender about this," he admitted. "If Jack’s willing to cooperate, we may not have need of your… services, for the time being. Don’t go anywhere," he added, walking from Ed to Pender.

Ed’s expression made it look like he’d just bitten into something extremely sour. "Yeah, right. That was just too goddamn funny." He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away from the sun. "Asshole." He muttered to himself quietly.

The circle of SWAT members, all with their weapons aimed at Jack, parted briefly to allow two beat officers to barge through. The two men were carrying shopping bags with the McDonald’s logo on the sides. They stopped suddenly when they got a look at the size of Jack.

"Burgers?!" Jack asked, taking a step forward.

A few years previously, Laura had taken a little vacation in California—San Diego, to be exact. She didn’t take extended leaves very often, so each and every one stood out in her mind. There were a lot of things to do in San Diego, including Sea World. Now, she’d be the first to admit that Sea World wasn’t ordinarily her kind of place, but she’d recently wrapped a case involving alleged "mermen" in the Pacific Northwest, and for a brief period all things aquatic held some vague interest for her… in much the same compelling way that, say, a random accident on the freeway might encourage passing motorists to "look for the bodies." She remembered seeing the killer whales most of all. Marvelous creatures, really: so enormous, yet so strikingly graceful and intelligent (that is, if the ability to perform tricks for humans qualifies a creature as being "intelligent"). The handlers fed them comparatively tiny fish, maybe only a few pounds each. Everything’s relative. Each of those feeder fish was miniscule to the orcas, yet they were willing to jump through all kinds of hoops, literally, just for a tenth of a mouthful.

If this is what they do for an appetizer, she’d wondered, what’s the main course like…?

Laura found herself revisiting this line of thought when she saw the look on Jack’s face. At least the whales were fenced in by a pool.

"Uh, where do you want these, Detective?" one of the officers asked.

"Drop ‘em there," Waters said. "Don’t get next to that mouth. Pender, could your men do the honors?"

"They certainly could. Mehldau, help our friend out, won’t you?"

If he were feeling any hesitation, it didn’t show. Good man, that Mehldau, she thought. He slung his stunner over one shoulder and strode over to the McDonald’s bags.

"We’re going to toss you some bags of hamburgers, Jack," Pender called out, nodding to Mehldau. "Remember, help us and we’ll help you."

"Gimmee," Jack said, and reached out to take the bags.

From about five paces away, Mehldau lobbed the first bag into Jack’s outstretched hands.

"This isn’t going to satisfy him," Pender whispered to Waters, "and we can’t keep this up forever. We need another solution, and fast."

"I don’t think he can be satisfied," Waters replied in a low voice. "I was inside—he ate half the store and he’s still starving. You got anything that will knock him out?"

"Yes." She sounded reluctant. "In the van. I don’t want to have to hurt him, though—if we don’t take him out right away, he’ll rampage again. Risky. But in any event, he’ll only stay unconscious for so long, and what happens next? If I could get him to come back to PRIMUS headquarters, we might be able to restrain him long enough to find a ‘cure.’ Have to get the techs working on that, if they aren’t already."

"Should’ve gotten Burger King," Grodenko said, quite out of nowhere. He hadn’t taken his eyes or netgun off Jack.

"Why’s that?" Pender asked, after a pause. This was new: a talking MCT.

"In Australia, Burger King is called Hungry Jack’s," he replied through his noticeable accent. She wasn’t sure exactly where he was from… Czechoslovakia, maybe. He readjusted his weapon’s shoulder strap. "Should’ve gotten Burger King. Fitting."

"Right." Pender turned to Jack, trying not to watch him eat. "How’s the food, Jack?"

The big man was unwrapping burgers as fast as he could and popping them into his gigantic mouth. He wasn’t chewing—it was like throwing tic-tacs into a garbage can. "Somethin’ wrong," he said, his voice desperate. "I don’t even feel ‘em."

"I know, Jack… I know." Technically, she hadn’t known, but she’d had a pretty good hunch. "Think we could talk for a minute or two?"

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