Five
Marcus Adam wasn’t sure how to digest the information… She looked so cold and angry when the letter was flung from her hand and onto his desk.
His office was small, but very nice in a minimalist sort of way. The recent addition and renovations to the Federal Building in downtown Baton Rouge had included these offices, and all unit leaders had their own space on this floor. His was about a third of the way from the northeastern corner of a rectangular shaped open office area, and there was – of course – the obligatory cubicle farm in the center of the room.
Its shape was the same as the overall office, but reduced in scale to allow for a ten foot buffer between it and the ring of offices occupied by the semi-important people. From the security cameras that were mounted with perspectives high enough; one could see the farm as a large maze filled with very bored and sometimes agitated individuals.
Most of the offices were private in name alone because of the clear glass panels that acted as separating walls from the central cubicle area. Marcus hated his office most of the time because of this, and presently his lack of fondness was likely showing all too well.
He sat at the modest desk with his back facing the windowed exterior wall and looked passed the two computer monitors towards his guest. She was dressed in her fine civilian clothes and seemed overly frustrated at this whole process.
Isa Gonzales was never the sort to demonstrate an abundance of patience.
“I’m sorry, Cap. The bonus to start ASAP was just too good to pass up.” She started to explain. “We’re talking lots of zeros here. They gave me today to settle my current affairs.”
The resignation letter she gave him was perfectly formatted and conveyed a level of calm professionalism that Marcus knew Isa did not possess. It wasn’t that she was incapable – she was absolutely brilliant in her own way, but she simply didn’t have the desire or patience for such tripe. He also knew who she thought she was secretly seeing and started to understand what Monica Weathers meant by a situation carrying the stink of James Bruce’s involvement.
“So I guess there’s nothing I can say then, that will change your mind?” His duty asked the question, but Marcus felt an undercurrent of betrayal that he knew would kill all trust he once had for the diminutive, but very efficient former agent.
“Handing you that letter and starting immediately meant over three years of my salary.” She replied. “You can get all huffy if you want to, but I would call you a goddamn liar if you said you wouldn’t do the same thing!”
“Okay, you’re dismissed!” He said with too much anger. “Turn in your weapon, badge and credentials to Louis on your way out!”
“Yeah well, I already did that!” She snapped back. Then Marcus noticed a small disturbance in the air around her left eye. It was barely perceptible and he wouldn’t have seen it if he wasn’t staring directly at her face. As it was, the disturbance twinkled and was gone in under a second. The only description he could reason out placed it close in appearance to the mirage formed from heat radiating off a paved road. The glint seemed to distract Isa momentarily as if she were reading, then she followed with: “I’m actually up here using my new credentials and James is in the elevator as we speak. You asked him to come, remember?”
One mystery solved at least. Not that Marcus ever considered the source of her sudden resignation a true mystery to begin with. Although his ability to just walk into a federal building unmolested was causing a curiosity he had a deep interest in resolving quickly.
“No one cleared him – or you come to think about it – to enter the offices.” Marcus sounded angry and despondent as he checked the building’s access logs on his computer terminal.
“When are you gonna understand, Cap?” She asked with a lust filled smile. “He doesn’t need clearance from you. He doesn’t need clearance from anyone in this building.”
Marcus was truly out of his element. Things were happening so fast that he wanted to scream in frustration. He couldn’t take the time to sit and absorb all the information the way he would usually. James Bruce had knocked him off the rails he lived his life by. The rails he had to live his life by…
Breath you fool!
The words were screamed by a barely perceptible voice from somewhere in the deep confectioning abyss of his ruined concentration. Had Marcus not taken these precious few milliseconds to think, he likely would have never heard his mind’s own chastisement. In and out he slowly breathed. His mind was still racing, but he was able to ignore it for the most part. In and out until he was able to calmly stand from his desk.
“Let’s go meet him then.” Marcus said. After he stood, he slowly and methodically walked around his desk and gestured for Isa to leave the office before him. She gave him her usual “hmmf” then walked out the doorway without further complaint.
Marcus realized there were events brewing that went far further than him. As he watched Isa’s young and attractive frame walk out of his office for the last time, he had to clamp down a heartbreak that if left unchecked would paralyze him. Marcus understood the fact that he was a pawn in a larger game the instant they were unable to find the weapon that killed Mo. He wasn’t the type, though, to wrench a machine because he didn’t understand it. That was Mo’s job. This, Marcus thought, was precisely why Mo was the pawn designated for initial termination.
During the few times that Mo found himself in a situation he didn’t understand; he would do the exact opposite of what anyone would ever bet on him doing, which was whatever random thing happened to be on his mind. He was the best at springing traps, and that skill is exactly what signed his death warrant. Now Isa was all but caught in someone’s sick game played with the lives of the people he loved.
He had nothing to convince him that James Bruce was not precisely that someone. Marcus fought against the resignation creeping into the perimeter of his mind and soon lost. If James Bruce was playing a game that he had time to prepare for; the young captain knew there was very little he could do now that would even slow him down. The realization was absolutely devastating.
Marcus Adam walked out of his office and locked the door behind him. He hoped Isa didn’t see the tears welling in his eyes.
*****
“Cap, you look like someone just died.” She said.
“Someone did just die, Isa!” He looked at her and responded with too little emotion for her taste. “Or, have you forgotten Mo?”
“Kiss my ass Marcus!” Isa didn’t care much for him accusing her that way and let her wroth be known quite clearly.
“Just because I don’t let everything stack up on me like you doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten about Mo! Christ! He was like a dad to me…” Then she thought about what she said for a couple of heartbeats. “Well, he was like a really weird uncle that looks at you too long when you’re walking away. Regardless, I loved Mo as much as anyone else, asshole!”
Truth was, Mo never acted at all inappropriately with her – at least as far as she could see, anyway. For all his bluster, Isa never saw him with a woman, nor did she know of anyone who had. He mainly kept to himself for the three years she knew him. He was a private man who loved to laugh and carry on around those who he thought needed cheering. Mo was also a man who loved to hurt people, and despite herself – Isa found she was very frightened of him the day they were introduced.
Isa forced the attention consuming parasites some people welcomed as memories away from her focus. She would have plenty of time to mope over things later, and with the proper accompaniment of a fine Scotch.
Marcus had already started walking without his usual arm gesture for her to precede him. Maybe he was starting to learn the foolishness of his chivalrous attitude with women, or he was just frustrated and angry. Isa was fairly convinced of the latter. He would never give up his masochistic personality. Marcus apparently loved being hurt by women; he seemed to do it enough to call it a hobby.
Isa would say she enjoys a nice guy as much as any girl does. They make great partners for when she needs a male opinion while shopping. It was always difficult to be blind to Marcus’ desire for her, and if he weren’t married; Isa figured he might get a date if he would have asked. But, dates don’t lead to memorable nights as far as she is concerned. Flowers and opening car doors lead to shoe opinions and not much more.
Still, she couldn’t help but admire how the flesh in each supple cheek of his butt hardened as his gait applied weight to them in a steady rhythm.
Around the perimeter of cubicles they walked. Marcus’ calm silence was beginning to bug her, but before she could say something to break the silent deadlock; they reached alcove in the wall that housed the floor’s break room. They entered and walked through the sickly bitter smell from the remnants of the floor’s morning coffee. Once through the brightly lit, and less than spotless kitchen, they stopped and waited in front of the closed elevator door. The up arrow light was glowing red to announce to anyone who cared to look that the car was on its way up.
“Cap, I’m sorry.” Isa found herself saying. “I know how much Mo meant to you. Even though we don’t grieve the same, I understand what you’re going through.”
“You don’t get to call me that anymore!” He barked back at her. “It’s Marcus or Captain Adams!”
Astonished… Isa tried to answer, “Cap, wha.. what’s wro -”, but she was interrupted by the ‘ding’ of the elevator.
Entranced by whatever the hell was eating Marcus, Isa had completely ignored the slight color changes her heads up display were projecting into her field of view. Marcella had warned her that Flynn’s live situational broadcast would be hard to adjust to. The images are subtle and transparent enough to never interfere with her eyesight and if not careful, her brain would start filtering them out – as it just had.
She looked back at the elevator door and could see them now. The small glowing orbs of color were faint, but they were there; three of them. At least the scheme was simple enough. The green glow in the right meant a friendly, or a Bruce Insider. Isa would register green to them as well. To the left a green glow surrounded a smaller yellow glow indicating an individual under Flynn’s protection: A person who wasn’t affiliated with James’ inner circle, but still close enough to warrant a friendly identifier. The center orb was blue surrounding a smaller green and it identified James Bruce. Only two people in the world would carry blue situational colors. The other person was far too young for these types of meetings, but she still had the Bruce surname. She would show as solid blue, and if any imminent danger was present, her identifier would flash.
Isa felt a small, but intense hitch in her calm as the doors opened to reveal his resplendent form. As per his usual, James’ face held his cocky sideways grin as he stepped first through the elevator door. She hoped Marcus would take note of his stride and the way he left the woman standing to his left to wait for her turn to walk out of the elevator.
“Captain!” James powerfully began as he grabbed the hand before Marcus had the chance to think. Shaking it vigorously, James continued. “It’s awesome to finally meet you! I don’t see any reason why we can’t figure this out quickly.”
“Captain Marcus Adams?” The question came from the third person standing in the elevator car. He was a short man dressed in casual Marine fatigues. Isa knew enough about military rank to know the black metal pins on his lapel meant some form of Major, but she didn’t know what kind.
“Yes Sir, have we met?” Marcus seemed to have a good idea what the man’s rank was.
“No, please get in Captain.” At the man’s request, Marcus stepped into the elevator and turned back around to face the door. James followed and Isa did one small visual sweep of their immediate surroundings before stepping in behind them.
“The elevator isn’t letting me push the sixth floor button,” said the other woman in the car.
“You have to scan a card on that card reader to get to six.” Marcus said as he pointed to the little black device mounted to the metal panel above the elevator controls. In the top left corner it had a small glowing red light.
“Yeah, federal judges are snobby and like their chambers private.” James said, then looked at Marcus directly and said; “Flynn – if you please”. Then an instant later the small black card reader beeped then turned its small light green.
“Got it,” She said. Isa knew who she was, but hadn’t met her until then. Her name was Miranda Cooper and her appearance could not execute her role as a powerful single attorney any better. Well, unless she was shooting for a sexy, naughty librarian type look. The woman would do just as well dancing with a shiny metal pole as she would in a courtroom with her current attire.
She stood around five four in her medium height violet heels. Isa would, of course, always see the heels first. Her frame was slender, but she didn’t lack curves in her hips. She wore a matching dark violet tight fitting skirt with barely perceptible thin vertical pinstripes. Isa recognized the designer and knew the skirt’s material allowed for it to seem skin tight, but also allow easy movement and airflow.
Her short sleeve black blouse was looser fitting and cut to accommodate a jacket that she must have just decided not to wear. The Louisiana fall days could still get rather warm, and she was probably not completely accustomed to the odd tropical weather. It came low, but not so low as to show cleavage on a more blessed individual. As it were, Miranda had little need to trouble with a bra, and as if in accentuation to that thought; her small breasts were perked and erect. If Isa could believe what she’d been told, her lack of underwear in a male dominated profession would be part of Miss Cooper’s genius.
Her skin was a lighter shade of Isa’s own, but that wasn’t surprising at all. James has his tastes. She wore professional looking black framed glasses that were probably more for the look than function. Her hair was light brown and was probably long, but today she had it wrapped into a tight bun and held with two wooden chopsticks on the back of her head. Isa admired the way she made menacing seem aesthetically pleasing.
The newest Bruce Insider also carried little doubt that at some point there were Miranda sized slippers waiting on the window side of a certain heavenly bed.
*****
“Isa… Don’t react.” The words were coming from her comm. They came in just enough time to distract her from any foolish thoughts of jealousy, which on the one hand was nice. But, she was only marginally able to avoid a small jolt of surprise. Of course Isa wasn’t exactly a newbie with listening to comm traffic, but this Bruce technology was able to reproduce a speaker’s voice almost too well. She was finding it difficult to differentiate if voices were in her presence or not.
Thankfully, her ability to force down any reaction seemed to please Marcy.
“Good, now listen; it’s just us girls. I jumped in before Flynn announced that he was bringing his tactical overlay up in SitHud. You know he’s not the most eloquent at bringing people up to speed on things. You’re about to see another layer of data that will give you much more information without obscuring your actual sight too much. There are commands you can give with subtle eye and eyelid movements, but don’t worry about that yet. On both sides of your weapon’s handgrip there are small elongated indentions that look like black glass. Sliding a finger up or down on either one will increase or decrease your heads up contrast. Be careful though, if you go too light James and Miranda will get a message that you’re not getting tactical data. Good luck, bring that fine little booty back healthy.”
Isa rolled her eyes, but soon found out just how much appreciation she would need to give Marcy for the warning. The Bruce SitHud was actually pretty slick, she had to admit. Getting fitted for the device was kind of strange, but it fit well and she soon forgot she was even wearing it. She attributed much of how the thing worked simply to magic because there was very little in the way of understanding how the gizmo worked even if she actually tried.
The fitting process required she sit on a small stool in James’ lab where a small arm articulated out of the wall and orbited a shiny crescent shaped device around her head. Grand total it only took around ten seconds, but the pure Sci-Fi feel of the process set off Isa’s ick alarms in a real way.
Then after about fifteen minutes, Flynn announced that it was ready. It was U shaped and would sit on her head and under her hair like some bizarre tierra. Once set into her hair, it contracted enough around her head to pin itself in place. About as thin as a small soda straw and long enough to wrap around her head; it would be slightly visible if it had not instantly turned itself the exact dark brown color of her hair. Another similar, but shorter and thinner device got put around her left ear and rested in the seam of skin where her head and ear cartilage met. It too adapted its color to her skin tone enough to seem almost completely invisible.
“You are currently fifteen seconds from your destination floor.” Flynn’s creepy voice resounded in her skull like it was being bathed in bug guts. “Situational Heads-Up Display online – Tactical overlay visible in five… four… three… two… one…”
Then Isa’s head exploded.
Or, that is to say it would have if it were possible to kill someone with information. Isa staggered and had to grab the railing of the elevator car to maintain her balance. She heard a small feminine titter in front of her and made a mental note to kick her in the throat later. James only had his sideways grin, but the shorter man in front of Marcus spoke up: “Miss, are you okay?”
“The SitHud surprises the best of us, Major.” James answered for her.
“What do you mean? What is a sit hud?” The man asked.
“Something your government can’t afford, so why worry about it?” James replied, then as if on cue the elevator dinged its arrival to the sixth floor.
“Ahh, the judge’s chambers.” James said while walking into the naturally lit lobby. He let out a small whistle and put his hands on his hips. “Such noble station and prestige… Not in any way bought and paid for on the backs of those they judge.” Isa could almost see the sarcasm leaking from his teeth. She had never seen him this way. “Remind me to carve ‘James Bruce wuz here’ on one of the pompous prick’s walls before we leave.”
“James, you know we’ve had a talk about what you can and can’t do to a federal judge.” Miranda’s playful scolding in no way suggested that she wouldn’t later be daring him to do exactly what he wanted.
“Mr Bruce, I have no time for sarcasm, but I warn you that if you touch anything but your ass to a chair on this floor – I’ll have you arrested faster than you can blink.” It was the Marine that spoke and when Isa looked at him she saw why James Bruce always knew everything.
In a small box above the man’s head were three sentences:
–“Elevated blood pressure: lying – frustrated – angry”
–“Body Posture: aggressive – dominant”
–“Situation Alert: subject is offended and will respond well to further angering attempts”
She could outright see the man’s sidearm, but nonetheless a red circle was around it in her tactical overlay with the words: “9mm – semi-automatic – un-chambered – 17 unused rounds | Disable?” They were red for about two or three seconds then refreshed in green to: “9mm – semi-automatic – un-chambered – 17 disabled rounds | Weapon Disabled; discarding threat.” With that the words faded away after another three seconds.
For those without live entertainment streamed directly onto their retinas by magical nanobots, those six or so seconds of silence must have been torturous. Miranda Cooper ended the silence by saying “Sergeant Major, rest assured that if you place one hand on anyone standing here right now; you will no longer own it.” Isa’s confusion as to how the weapon was disabled and who actually gave the command to do so would have to wait. Damn it all! She was going to have to start taking notes with questions to ask.
“Everyone just calm down.” James said. “No one will be defiling the precious temple you have built to honor your government’s putrid sense of justice.”
“Our government… Mr Bruce!” Marcus finally broke his long silence. “You mean our government… Don’t you?”
“No Captain… That is not what I meant.” James lost his sideways grin, turned and walked through the lobby atrium.
When no one moved to follow him, Isa cleared her throat loudly, raised her eyebrows and gestured with her left hand for them to move. “We can’t keep our other guests waiting. Let’s go, Cap… Major.”
“What other guests?” Marcus asked.
“You’ll see, Captain.” Isa didn’t need Flynn to tell her that the Marine was sure he would be enjoying the next few minutes, but her heads up reported a likelihood of smugness regardless. Marcus on the other hand wasn’t such an open book. He had completely closed himself off, but Flynn was still reporting that he was depressed, frustrated or suicidal. She wondered about the logical leap taken on the latter possibility. Either he was carrying no weapon or, more likely, his hold-out had been disabled. He had no tactical warnings other than his mood.
Isa just sighed and fell in line behind them. They all walked directly across the white marble floor to an ornate set of wooden double doors. They opened automatically as the party reached them and James didn’t break stride as he walked into the room.
It was a weird situation. She was hired muscle; there was no doubt as to what her role was. But, James was infuriating with his brazenly dangerous actions – like simply strolling into an uncleared room. She constantly had to remind herself that she wasn’t his protection, though. If a threat got through whatever Flynn had in place to keep them safe, she certainly had no shot at stopping it. Isa fought the negative tingle that her only purpose was as a psychological weapon against what James had just referred to as ‘your government’. When James and Marcy convinced her to come aboard, they called her Kinetic Support; meaning that sometimes people just need to be touched by a human.
Shaking her thoughts aside, she walked into what looked like a common meeting room connecting the four separate judge’s chambers on this floor. A pane glass wall was set opposite of the door and a heavy oaken table with ten comfortable looking business chairs sat in the middle of the small conference room. There were three suited men sitting on the window side of the table and two more very disinterested uniformed guardsmen sat at the end of the elongated table. The stack of black crates in the right corner near the window belonged to James’, and she knew Flynn had them brought in for whatever this meeting was for.
“Please, have a seat everyone.” Miranda said as everyone else filed themselves into one of the luxurious chairs. Isa took a standing position behind the two guardsmen. James wanted them to have extra protection. He himself found a seat closest to the black boxes.
The pristine looking lawyer rolled her eyes and blew an errant strand of hair from her brow before nearly growling “James has graciously agreed, against the best legal advice in the world, to shed light on some questions your agencies may have about recently exposed technologies.” Miranda continued with a real scowl towards James. “Let’s start by getting to know everyone in the room, shall we?”
Isa’s SitHud didn’t give data on any Bruce Insider, but Miranda’s wroth seemed real enough.
“My name is Miranda Cooper, legal counsel to both Bruce Company and James Bruce personally, and you all know James himself.” She said while pointing to him and then expertly proceeded with introductions based on social rank, both legitimate and perceived.
“This is Sergeant Major Gabriel Montgomery, Senior Enlisted Advisor to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, US Marine Corps.” The Major didn’t say anything; he just stood in his parade rest stance and looked around the room. His demeanor seemed calm, but Flynn was alerting likelihoods of annoyance, anger and impatience. Miranda gestured towards the first of the three gentlemen in suits.
With her perspective at the end of the table, Isa could see all three of the suited gentlemen. Her SitHud showed graphics that each one was very bored and annoyed, but then a new overlay faded in that drew green circles around each of their heads. Leader lines from each circle lead to a single dialog that read:
“Heterosexual Attraction Probabilities: 78 – 83% – Miranda Cooper, 63 – 74% – Isa Gonzales.”
Well then, Isa thought. At least I know where I stand. She looked at James and noticed that he was trying and failing to stifle a laugh at her expense. Clever boy he was; his goofy face disarmed her inner teenager’s fit of angry jealousy.
“Mr Bruce, I’m getting tired of not being privileged to your inside jokes! I’m going to have to demand that I be able to hear and see your private broadcasts!” The Major’s face was actually turning red as he spoke. He turned and walked towards Isa’s end of the table and continued what he surely perceived as orders. “Miss, by order of the President of the United States; you are to surrender your communication devices!”
Unblinking, Isa turned to James with a look of confusion, but she needn’t have worried. James had his newest sorcery in motion before the man stopped barking his inane order.
The first description she could give of the device that fell from the ceiling was that it was small, but then again it didn’t really fall, so to speak. The hole it made in the sheetrock was cut precisely to its shape and the small winged device dove down faster than it could ever hope to accelerate by gravity alone, only to dip and hover at eye level six feet from the Major. The second thing Isa saw was what she couldn’t see; debris. It busted itself out of the drywall ceiling without an ounce of the fine white powder mess that usually accompanies such an effort.
She could tell it was a type of unmanned military drone, but much smaller and built drastically different. The front fuselage and wings were built as one thick crescent shape and the wings housed small turbines that she could see moving in silent orbital rhythm to keep the diminutive craft in a very tight and efficient hover pattern. Its nose held another turbine that did not look to share the need for constant orbital movement. Extending from the wing / fuselage was a very organic looking metal framework that ended with the unit’s tail section that housed a turbine similar to the one in its nose. The most menacing of all though, were the arrays of small incendiary weapons attached to the latticework of its metal frame.
Sergeant Major Gabriel Montgomery stopped cold in his tracks when the absolutely silent flying death probe flew to intercept him. He stood in shock as it hovered eighteen inches from his face. No one in the room had yet to hear even the slightest noise.
“Major, I suggest you take your seat.” Miranda said with a bored look. Isa looked back at James and could see the white hot intensity burning in his mind.
“What is this thing?” He asked without turning away, but put his right hand on the heel of his sidearm. “I need to report this to the President!”
“She asked you to go to your seat Major!” James was standing now. “Do you have trouble understanding English? Your president’s report can wait until we finish!” As if to accentuate his point; the drone lowered two new barrels from each of its crescent shaped wings.
A new alert flashed into Isa’s vision: “Please sit the Major down! 8 of 8 secret service personnel have had their threat status set to NO THREAT – Flynn.”
That explains the suits, then. This must be what they called Kinetic Support, she had to stop herself from giggling at the comedic simplicity. Approaching the man was easy, but the three suits on the opposite side of the table took quite the offense to her quick and sudden movement towards the Sergeant Major.
“Miss, stand down!” The bulky man in the center of them said, but when she didn’t seem to pay attention he continued. “Miss, you will be shot. Stand down!” She was a soldier with a cause and like it or not, she signed up for James’ cause – whatever that may ultimately be. Isa was trusting Flynn, a glorified laptop, with her life, but if the artificial intelligence was anything like its designer; there would be no room for gray areas. If Flynn announced a black and white statement that the men weren’t threats, then the damnable machine believed it true.
Isa could feel the agents drawing their weapons as she sped up her silent approach to her target, but she could hear the doors of the judge’s chambers banging open. The Marine was oblivious to all the activity, though; his attention was still completely invested in the flying drone when she placed a strong forearm lunge into his chest with her left arm while pulling his left knee slack with her right hand. With a background symphony of handguns clicking against useless ammunition she drove the man upwards and back down onto his back with fluid, practiced grace. His surprised face released a loud “humfpt” as all the air was driven from his lungs by a knee that was conveniently using the momentum of her falling weight.
With her left knee still planted on the Major’s sternum, she looked up and at Miranda with a hateful smile and said. “I bet there isn’t a seventy-eight to eighty-three percent chance you could do that in pumps and a skirt… Bitch!”
“Isa! What are you doing?” It was Marcus of course. Isa found the thought funny that she had forgotten about inviting her father to the meeting. Shut the fuck up Marcus before I have to kinetically support you too! She thought wildly, but he continued his insanity. “What have you done to her Bruce?”
Marcus stood up and found himself face to face with another identical drone. His face was flushed with anger, and his lips were visibly trembling. He looked down at her and back at the drone once more then sat down with his arms crossed. The hurt washed over her like a wave. She wished he would understand that things were about to change. James would gladly accept him into his organization if Marcus didn’t hate the man so much.
“Flynn, Isa – Stand down!” James said loudly over the din in the room. “If there are no more physical threats to share; perhaps we can proceed with our purpose!”
The Sergeant Major instantly began coughing and wheezing precious oxygen back into his lungs the instant Isa lifted her weight from his chest. She would have to call it a bucket list moment. It’s not everyday one gets presented the opportunity to physically assault a man who has only one supervisor between him and the President of the United States. The thought arose in her mind that after today there will be plenty more opportunities to accost high ranking individuals. She couldn’t say that the thought really upset her all that much.
James looked around at the confused secret service agents who were still trying to reload their weapons with further useless rounds. “Your weapons will not fire. You can stop that now.” He said, then pointed to the overzealous Marine and said: “See to your man and put his stupid ass in a chair! If he gets back up, even to go piss, I’m going to put him back on a plane to Washington myself!”
“Sergeant Major…” Miranda began as he worked himself back to one knee stubbornly batting away the hands of the two agents trying to help him to his feet. “You will not be having anyone arrested, nor will you be confiscating any property of Bruce Company. If you take your seat, I can promise that you will receive less pain over the course of this meeting.”
Isa stood and straightened her clothes; noting with delight that she found no rips or tears. Not that it mattered now anyway. She could buy a new outfit everyday if she wanted to. With a slight nod from her new boss, she took a new position closer to the stubborn and slightly stupid Sergeant Major and two very perturbed secret service agents.
The two drones moved with fluidic grace to hover over each end of the long and decorative table. They pulled their secondary barrels back into their fuselages with exact timing then turned to face their master as they continued their silent and steady hover.
“If your idiotic slack-jawed expressions are any indicator – I would wager you all would really enjoy knowing what you just saw.” James said finally. “These units are a culmination of about three years of R&D trial and error along with about thirty million washed away in developmental assets. We call them RKD’s or Remote Kinetic Devices, but the version that has this hardened soldier pissing his pants is the Bruce Stage One Stalker Drone or Stalker One if you prefer abbreviations.”
“Gentlemen!” He said, gesturing to the guardsmen still trembling at the end of the table. “You saw something similar when Mr Weathers was abducted, correct?”
Isa stole a glance to her left towards the two men she was initially guarding. Flynn was broadcasting heads up data that would be useless to anyone with even a scrap of human dispositional awareness. She didn’t need the toaster to tell her that their blood pressure was elevated – the plump red hue of their faces was all the indication she needed. They didn’t seem so terrified as to forget their sexual attractions, though.
Almost gleefully, Isa noticed that her attraction numbers were higher than the pristine little bitch in the front of the room – probably because of her little physical display and their tastes for such things.
This is going to turn into a horrible little game of who’s hottest, she thought to herself. Watching us compete for attraction numbers will make Mr Genius happy to be sure.
“What’s your name?” She asked the one closest to her.
“Ma’am?” He asked while looking directly at Marcus with an expression of mortal terror.
Isa waved her arm in a dismissive gesture and said; “oh, don’t worry about him”. “No one here is going to be able to hurt you, right James?”
Taking her queue, James shot jade daggers from suddenly hate filled eyes at Marcus and replied; “Flynn, there are two National Guardsmen at the other end of the table. Do you recognize them? Respond audibly.”
“Affirmative, Sir.” Isa’s earpiece vibrated slightly when he responded. She found it a good thing because it gave her tactile feedback for when Flynn was addressing more than just her, and she desperately hoped her expression wasn’t as comically stupid as the ones surrounding her the first time she heard the assistant’s voice. Just like in James’ apartment, the voice reverberated and sounded as though it were being sourced from everywhere at once.
“What are their names?” James asked.
“Levi Bertrand and Bernard Stanos, Sir.” Flynn replied instantly.
“Flynn; until I personally order you otherwise, you are to place Levi Bertrand and Bernard Stanos under your complete protection. This order extends to their families and descendants for six degrees in both paternal and maternal directions.”
James spoke the order while never surrendering his fixated stare on Marcus, who was noticeably beginning to wilt under its intense pressure. Finally granting the Captain a small measure of relief; James looked at the Marine and continued.
“Flynn, what protections will you be offering Levi and Bernard?”
“Complete, Sir.”
“How do you qualify a threat?”
“Any outside entity with the intent to harm, physically or otherwise, any individual under my direct protection.”
“How do you define an outside entity?”
“Any person or group representing interests that are not originated as a direct order from you, Sir.”
“Do you define the United States government as an outside entity?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“What is your mandated reprisal for violating the parameters of safety for those under your complete protection?”
“Complete destruction of the responsible outside entity, Sir.”
“Is the Geneva Convention considered within the execution parameters when complete destruction of an outside entity is deemed necessary?”
“No, Sir.”
“If the United States government were to violate your parameters of safety; do you have the resources currently in place to execute your reprisal?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Very well, execute the protection order now.” James was still looking at the Marine with enough hate to fill two Bruce bank accounts. “Also, extend Sergeant Major Gabriel Montgomery’s protection time for forty-eight hours.”
“As you wish, Sir.” If Isa hadn’t known better, she could swear she heard disappointment in the artificial voice. A small lump formed in her stomach when she realized that she had no solid evidence capable of convincing her that she did know better.
“Gentlemen, the pretty operative asked you a question. I suggest answering her.” James had already wiped the hate and anger from his face as if it were a dry erase whiteboard. He was now speaking to them with his harmless grin. The grin that was actually pretty harmless if one was comparing it to a decently sized thermonuclear warhead.
When she looked back towards them again, they both had the faint green and yellow glow of an individual under Flynn’s direct protection.
Isa was still counting herself among the astonished number of people in the room trying desperately to digest the idea of James Bruce possessing the ability to destroy the US government.
Shaking that horrible thought away, Isa asked the man again; “what’s your name”?
“Levi, ma’am. Is ‘a pleasure ta’ meet ya’, but ‘ah never heard your name.” He wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t seem as frightened anymore.
“Isa Gonzales.” She said while offering her right hand palm down so he could shake it like the gentlemen he probably thought he was.
She repeated the gesture to the second man. “And, your name?” She asked as a form of courtesy. Of course she already knew his name.
“My name is Barney, Ma–” Before Barney could touch her hand in greeting he was interrupted by a loud and penetrating voice.
“Sir! The building is under attack!” Flynn barely had the warning voiced when the alarms started blaring.