Date: Mon, 2 May 2022 00:16:29 +0000 (UTC) From: Samuel Stefanik Subject: Crown Vic to a Parallel World: The Beginning. Chapter 38 Hello you lovely people!! I must apologize profusely for doubting that you were still out there. The outpouring of support you have shown since my rather shameless plea for feedback at the start of the last chapter has brought tears of joy to my eyes! A very special shout out and thank you to Earth-Boy, Jer Bear, Mark, Ivan, C Jay, Norrin, Mick, and JL for taking the time to write in. You are sweet people and your notes, no matter how long or short, are greatly appreciated. To quote Sally Field when she accepted her Oscar for 'Places in the Heart,' "you like me, you really like me!" Thank you so much to all the readers. I hope you enjoy this chapter! If you're younger than 18 or find these kinds of stories offensive, please close up now and have a great day! If you are of legal age and are interested, by all means keep going. I'll be glad to have you along for the journey. Please donate to Nifty. This is a great resource for great stories and a useful outlet to authors like me and readers like you. 38 A Ruthless Son of a Bitch "Well, what have we learned?" Ars asked. We were in the conference room at The HALL, discussing the first skirmish that we'd participated in earlier that day. It hadn't been a disaster, but we couldn't claim a clean win either. That morning, we'd driven the same van we'd had before, this time to the west instead of the east, to a river valley carved from brown and tan sedimentary rock. Our enemy was at the top of a cliff, and we were at the bottom. Neb didn't bother too much with stealth. She said she didn't see much point to it. In her mind, the enemy knew we were coming and why. Neb parked in the shade of some trees, and we all crowded to lean over the front seat and look through the windshield. We could see the soldiers in black body armor patrolling the edge of the cliff and they could see us. "Do we get body armor?" I asked. Neb answered me directly. "No, for two reasons. One, it makes it hard to move with precision. Your climbing skills are not good enough to cope with the extra restriction. The other reason is, this is pretend. We might wear it for the actual mission, but either way, Church, you will not." Shawn objected. He leaned farther over the front-seat-back to argue. "But uncle says Church is the most important one here." "He is." Neb agreed to the windshield. "He's also the least physically capable of the four of us, and you Shawn, are the least willing. No, it is becoming very clear that Bem and I will have to deal with the enemy forces while you two hang-back. Church is the one who will save the world, and you are the one who can heal us. Putting either of you in harm's way is foolish. I have a plan, if it works," she held her right index finger up in the universal gesture of `just a second,' "wait...I'll show you." Neb popped the driver's door open, prompting us to pile out. She opened the back of the van and folded the doors back. Inside the cargo area was a crate with detachable sides. Inside the crate was a mean-looking tripod-mounted machine gun with plenty of ammunition. Next to the crate were two large, flat rectangular cases, like oversized pool-cue cases. There were also miscellaneous ammo boxes and cases containing other weapons. Bem opened the pool-cue cases. The first contained a grenade launcher and the second held a sub-machine gun with a shoulder strap. Bem took up the sub-machine gun and checked it over. He selected a magazine from an ammo box, slid it into the bottom of the weapon, and slipped the strap onto his shoulder. "These fire a stun like our practice weapons but are also loaded with blanks. The idea is to simulate the sounds of a real battle and to force us to be aware of ammo consumption. These will only fire a stun if accompanied by a blank round. No round, no stun." Neb climbed in the van to work on unpacking and prepping the tripod-mounted weapon. She laid out her strategy while she worked. "Overwhelming force is our only option. They know we're coming. We can't help that. We can't climb up to get them, because they won't wait for us. This isn't a duel, it's war. Church will build us a platform. Bem and I will ride up; me behind the anti-personnel machine gun, and Bem with the grenade launcher and his sub-machine gun. This is overwhelming force, and when we fly up there, surprise." "It'd surprise the hell outta me." I admitted. Neb and Bem prepped their weapons and set them on the ground at the distance they wanted them when they flew up the cliffside. Neb decided to space her and Bem about twenty feet apart to keep the enemy from being able to concentrate their fire. As part of final preparations for the attack, Bem went to the van and came back with our weapons, Shawn's and mine. He pressed Shawn's practice machine pistol into Shawn's hands and tossed my practice revolver sidearm to me. "What's this for?" Shawn asked. Bem sighed and shook his head at Shawn's reluctance to participate even in the mock battle. He didn't comment, instead saving whatever thoughts that went through his head for himself and voicing only instructions. "You watch out for Church and make sure he concentrates on keeping us in the air. They may realize it's his magic we're relying on and try to take him out. No matter what happens to us, your job is Church. Clear?" Shawn said that it was. Bem winked at me, took his place near Neb, slung the sub-machine gun and readied the grenade launcher. Neb wracked a round into the chamber of the heavy machine gun. I built a platform under them and told them when I was ready. "Now." Neb said. * * * * Hours later Neb leaned against the conference room wall with her arms folded, staring at the floor in a posture of defeat. "We got them all, but had it been real, I would be dead, and Bem seriously wounded. The cost was too high. Our overwhelming force wasn't overwhelming enough. We need two more people...professionals like Bem and I. If we can launch two contingents, each armed like we were today, we should be able to handle anything without serious losses." I looked to Ars to gauge his reaction. He silently examined his fingernails like he was unhappy with his manicure and waited for Neb to continue. "I already know who I want to use." She went on when Ars didn't speak. "I worked with them before. You may remember the situation, eleven years ago in Severn." Ars raised his eyes to her with a lazy look. "The hostages?" He asked. "Yes. The men I'm thinking of were instrumental in resolving that incident." Ars waved the hand he was unhappy with in the air and stood from his chair. "I leave it to your judgement then, Warrant Officer. You may use the authority of my office to have them reassigned. Make whatever deal you wish with them, up to and including the one Mister Philips negotiated for the four of you. Tell them whatever you must to get the job done. I presume additional time will be needed to get them up to speed." Neb straightened off the wall and came to `attention.' "A week at the most Steward." "That is acceptable." He said and left the room. When the door closed behind Ars, I spoke the thoughts I'd been gnawing on the whole time he'd been in the room. "Who the fuck was that guy and what did he do with Ars Summas? Where's the guy who says everything six times?" Shawn scratched a thumbnail at the table like he was trying to unstick something from it. He fiddled and fussed and squirmed in his chair. It was obvious, even to the others that weren't connected to him, that he was uncomfortable about something. Whatever he was picking at on the table seemed to finally come loose, and with it, came Shawn's voice. "He's disappointed. That's how he acts when something doesn't work out the way he planned." Neb leaned against the wall and dropped her eyes to the floor. Bem shrank in his chair. Shawn went back to the spot on the table that wasn't there. I started to feel bummed out, then I got mad. "Fuck him!" I shouted and slammed my fist on the table. Everyone startled. I ranted a bit. "We've been at this for what, not even a god-damned month? Two special forces pros who never worked together before and two rank amateurs wiped out a six-person special forces team earlier today and did it in minutes. I mean, Jesus Christ, what the fuck does he expect? We asked for two more guys and a week before we save the fucking world! Disappointed...god-damned good thing he didn't say it to me. I might have popped him one." I shook my fist at the room and slammed it on the table again. Shawn flinched at the noise. I ran out of venom but not out of anger. My hands remained fists and I stewed. "Church?" Bem asked. "WHAT?" I barked. I apologized and lowered my voice. "What?" "Who is this Jesus guy and what does he have to do with it?" I found I couldn't hold onto my anger in the face of Bem's absurd question. `Leave it to Bem,' I thought, `to latch onto the irrelevant.' I rubbed my neck and realized that taking the Lord's name in vain has little meaning in a place where they've never heard of him. I gave Bem the barest Cliff's Notes version of the New Testament that I could come up with. "He was a really nice guy, that met a bad end, and four other guys wrote a book about him. It has a very long prologue and quite a few plot issues, but it's hugely popular on Earth." Bem's scrunched face told me he didn't understand, but the real explanation would take too long, and I doubted he'd understand it any better. "Sounds like you guys will read just about anything. Forget it, figure of speech thing I guess." "Something like that." I agreed. Neb checked the small timepiece from her shirt pocket. "It's getting late. I'll make the calls. If I can get them here tomorrow, I will, but it will likely be the day after. Plan for a normal day." She looked to Shawn and I. "Start on the wall and report here after lunch as usual." We said our goodbyes and left. * * * * The next day, after a challenging morning on the advanced wall, Shawn walked into the conference room ahead of me. Neb had the model of the Demon's Citadel out and was talking about it with Bem and two shaved heads that faced away from us. The men that owned the heads were shorter than both Bem and Neb but were each at least as broad as me. Massive `V' shaped backs stretched the blue t-shirts of the fatigues they wore, their thick necks barely able to get through the straining collars. Their builds were so similar, from behind they could have been twins. Two of what Bem would call `gym asses' topped legs so muscled, each of the four thighs were at least as big around as Bem's waist. Neb noticed us and raised her eyes from the model. "Good." She gestured for us to gather around. "Guys, meet Cibum Dux and his brother Vulputate." The two body-builders turned like bookends, pivoting on the balls of their feet, first to face each other, then to Shawn and I. My right hand was on its way to becoming a welcoming handshake but turned to a fist when I saw who the men were. I pointed a stiff finger at the man I recognized as the meathead spokesman from in front of Big Nick's bar. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?" I demanded. The man's already-pasty-white face blanched as he uttered a gasped, "Oh shit." Neb and Bem were a chorus of, "what's the matter? What's wrong? Do you know each other?" I rubbed my face with both hands while my brain connected the obvious dots. I shouted into my palms. "GOD-FUCKING-DAMNIT ARS!" I pointed to the conference table. "EVERYONE SIT!" The group did as I said. I remained standing at the head of the table. The Dux brothers were both casting nervous glances around the room from their wide eyes and trying not to look at me. I forced control onto my rage and gritted my teeth so hard I thought they'd burst from my jaws. "Shawn," I growled, "call your uncle and ask him to join us. Do NOT take `no' for an answer." Shawn called. He had to do some cajoling, but Ars agreed to come down for a moment before his next appointment. We waited. The meathead spokesman, Cibum, tried to ease the tension in the room. "Would it help if I apologized?" He asked. "Just...shut...up." I growled some more and Cibum fell silent. Ars strolled in, his regular act firmly in place. "Good afternoon everyone, yes, a fine good afternoon to you all. I am so glad you called me down. I have just a moment and no more, but I am always happy to see you all." His gaze landed on the Dux brothers, and his rattling stopped like a wind-up toy hit with a sledgehammer. He looked from them, to Shawn, to me, and back again. I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from wrapping them around Ars' neck. "Explain it." I demanded through my teeth. Ars rubbed his hands together like he was trying to start a fire with them. He pointed his face in every direction like he was talking to the whole room equally. "My, my, my, my, my but this is awkward. Yes, awkward indeed. I must say..." "ARS!" I roared. "DROP THE BULLSHIT AND TALK!" Ars cleared his throat and his voice deepened almost a full register. It became as deep as Shawn's. "What I am certain you have surmised, young man, is exactly what happened. The only lapse on my part was not realizing the men from Severn and the men that I sent to Earth, were the same men. I sent them, the four of them, to do what they did. My agents on Earth were coming up with nothing...yes there were other agents working to find powerful and compassionate men. Shawn was gone for three months with no results. I knew I had to do something. Logical sense dictated that if we needed a powerful and compassionate man, first we needed to create the object of compassion." Ars moved behind Shawn's chair so he could talk about his nephew like he wasn't there. "Shawn is young, attractive, and innocent in both his appearance and manner. His distress would stir strong feelings in protective men. Those I sent would never have hurt him. I am not a monster to stoop to that level of expedience, but time was running out and I did what I thought I had to. What is more, I do not apologize for doing it. My actions, whatever you think of them, brought Mister Philips to us and gave me the first hope I have had in a long time. I mourn the necessity, but not the action. I am also willing to endure your ill feelings or even your hatred, as long as you keep working toward our collective goal. If it makes any difference to you at all, my nephew was not the only agent I had menaced in the pursuit of the goal of protecting this world." I was surprised Ars came clean so easily. I expected some evasion, especially because his admission would put his relationship with his nephew in jeopardy. I sat on the end of the table to look Ars in the eye. "You are one ruthless son of a bitch." I accused without troubling to hide my anger. Ars leaned toward me, like he was daring me to strike him. His voice hardened. His words came like ice cracking in a hot drink. "I am responsible for the safety and survival of this world. How could I be anything else but ruthless? Ethics are fine for those who are already safe. For a man in my position, often what is expedient, is what is right." "Uh huh...OK Ars. I'll make you a deal, I'll keep my opinions to myself, if you drop the `harmless bureaucrat' act. I'll work for the devil himself as long as he doesn't pretend to be an angel." Ars' voice climbed toward his normal tone and his face became a self-satisfied smirk. "The `act' as you call it, young man, is a carefully honed tool of my profession. You have discovered my secret. It is up to you to guard against it." I wanted to scream at Ars. I wanted to blast him for sending men to threaten his nephew. I wanted to strike him to teach him a lesson. I did none of those things because I realized they were pointless. I waved Ars away, dismissing the small man because I knew I'd get no more out of him. "Have it any way you like it. We've got shit to do." "Indeed, you do, sir. I suggest you get to it." Ars walked out without a glance to Shawn. Shawn's emotions, as his uncle left, were a swirling, knotted mess. "Do you need some time?" I asked him. Shawn sighed and resignation replaced the mess. "No. I know who my uncle is. I can't even say I'm surprised...disappointed but not surprised." Cibum spoke up, his voice every bit as thick as I remembered it, but he no longer sounded stupid. "I am genuinely sorry for what we did. I hope you can work with us." Shawn was more gracious than I might have been in his place. "Don't apologize for doing your job. You didn't hurt me, and because of what you did, I met Church. I should thank you." I gave up on my anger and offered my hand to Cibum and Vulputate. "We're all under his fucking thumb. Glad to have you on the team." Cibum shook my hand with an iron grip. "Brave thing you did, just you and your little gun against the four of us." "Wasn't brave," I admitted, "I was shitfaced." A rumbling sound started deep in the man's chest and became a rolling chuckle as it left his mouth. "Drunk with a gun. You're a dangerous guy." "Shows what you know." I challenged him as I started to laugh. "It wasn't a real gun." Cibum's chuckle became harsh, barking laughter. He clutched his stomach with his left hand and slapped the conference table with his right. His brother joined the fun with a reserved snigger, but nothing like the explosive humor of Cibum. He laughed himself out, then settled and wiped his eyes. "You're not brave, you're crazy. I can't believe I surrendered to a toy." The laughter knocked the gravity out of the heavy mood that had gripped the room since Shawn and I entered. We had a light `getting to know you' session. Cy and Vulp, as they preferred to be called, had similar backgrounds to Neb. They were both city cops who drifted into the military for better pay and the chance to travel. Cy was sixty-six and older by two years than his brother. He also tended to do the talking for the pair. I asked them about their magic right up front. After Neb's reveal, I was taking no more chances. Cy was a Third-Class Telekinetic with a `B' power rating. That meant he could control solid objects that he could see or imagine and granular objects that he could see. Younger brother Vulp was a Second-Class Empath with a `B' power rating. His main power was mind control. Vulp could compel someone do anything he wanted them to do, within a few limits that had to do with how strong the subject's feelings were about the action. He couldn't make someone harm themselves, but he could make them sit, stand, walk, talk, bark like a dog, wave their arms around, stand on one leg...that kind of thing. He also had the ability to program a compulsion into an individual. He didn't elaborate on that part of his power, but it seemed like an impressive and somewhat scary ability. They were both experts with weapons, hand-to-hand combat, and blades. Bem challenged them to prove themselves with a little sparring. The Dux brothers accepted. We trooped next door to the dojo. Cy sent Vulp in with Bem and the rest of us stood in a line against the glass to watch. Cy primed us for what he expected to see. "I know Bem Custos by reputation. He's good. He's not as good as Vulp. I know how we look, musclebound. We're not." Vulp and Bem were in position at an angle to the glass with Vulp roughly facing us and Bem facing away. Bem seemed to be laying down some ground rules. "I'll show you." Cy said as we waited for the match to start. Cy stepped away from the glass to give himself some space between the rows of seats. He leaned his upper body to his right, pivoted on his right hip, and raised his left leg. He reached for the rising leg with his left hand and pulled it up until he was doing a full, standing split, his left calf next to his head. He let the leg go, lowered his foot to the floor, and stood straight. My imagination began working overtime to catalogue the sexual possibilities brought about by that level of flexibility. I was both impressed and aroused by Cibum Dux. "Did it just get really warm in here?" I asked. "Yes, yes it did." Shawn agreed. Cy smiled; his round-face full of boyish pride. "My brother and I, and our two cousins who were with us on Earth, all study an art known as Elit Fortis, literally flexible strength. It makes a body-builder aesthetic possible without sacrificing agility. Think ballet with heavy weight training." Neb whispered the conclusion we all drew from Cy's display. "Bem doesn't have a chance." We turned to watch. The fight was over almost as it began. Bem started with his hopping sparrow impression. Vulp lunged at him. Bem tried to hop away but Vulp moved like lighting. He corrected his course as Bem tried to dodge. Vulp wrapped around Bem and drove him into the mat with all his weight. He trapped Bem's arms under him and levered his forearm across Bem's throat. If it was a real fight, Bem would have blacked out before he had a chance to wonder how he wound up on his ass. Bem surrendered unnecessarily. Vulp got up, offered Bem his hand, and pulled the taller man up as easily as if he was a cardboard cut-out instead of a person. Cy was all smiles at his brother's performance. "We are NOT sparring." I said. "Christ...I can't block one in ten of Bem's hits. With either one of you it'd be like defending myself against a freight train. No thanks!" Neb chimed in with her own self-satisfaction. "That's why I called them." "I'm sold. You, Shawn?" "You have my vote." He agreed. Bem stepped out of the practice room followed by Vulp. "Did you see that?" He asked us. "I've never been pinned that fast...well...unless I wanted to be." He eyed Vulp up and down, shamelessly appraising him. "Was hot, having all that heavy muscle on top of me. You want to get together tonight and do that again?" Vulp shook his head and uttered a clipped, "not into guys." Bem shot a pouty-faced look from Vulp to Cy. Cy cleared his throat and shook his head, "uh...sorry, me neither." Bem threw his head back and shook his fists at the ceiling in a theatrical cry of frustration. "NEXT MISSION...I PICK THE TEAM!" "Hey Cy," I said, "don't show him that thing you just showed us. I think his head would explode." A chuckle went around the room and affected everyone but Bem, who was confused. I didn't elaborate and neither did anyone else.