"So. You want me to have our friends in NASA reach out to Apollo. That's a pretty big ask; we've been officially on Olympus's shit-list since Hiroshima and are lucky they're talking to the space program at all. Anybody we use for that is burned; Hephaestus and his people will never talk to them again."
Sam sighed. He never liked asking the director for things, and this could be damaging the tech-sharing agreement the various space agencies had if it went badly. "Yes sir.. I think it'll fairly obvious how important this is."
"And also, you want to send the Swords out to Nevada on a 'shakedown cruise' as it were, and all of this based solely on some speculation from a drug trip." The director ran his fingers over his desk, studying a screen. Officially, he wasn't supposed to share any of the data with Torrance and his team for another five months. And he wouldn't do so. But he had a chart on his screen showing the values of the stocks Jason had picked; and virtually all of the top-performing stocks were among those the new man had chosen. Undoubtedly, either his actions were changing the future.... or the outliers would suffer downturns. His confidence in the precog had gone up with each test they'd completed, as they'd slowly but surely expanded how far he could definitely predict.
Dr. Martinez's estimate of six years... or the span of the rest of his life, with him being dead in six years... was seeming more likely with each passing moment.
"I've heard he gave a complete rundown of this hypothetical future. What's your thought? Clearly you have to think its at least possible, or you wouldn't be in here."
Sam set a simple manilla folder on the desk. "We had him dictate all of it he could remember, and, with his permission, had a telepath check him out. It was a pain; the implants meant they needed to be essentially touching the entire time. Basically, taking the... medication... sent him on a brief trip to the very end of his life. He got to witness his final moments, and the death of himself and Apollo. There was a bit of chatter, but the relevent bits..." He raised a finger.
"First, and most urgently. Doctor Disaster, someone he'd never heard of until that vision, somehow made a Titan, but Apollo had him killed before he could make more. We know he's an expert in genetics and cybernetics, so who knows if that's true; but he's a criminal, one we can pick up, and might provide a bit of independent verification. If Apollo wants all the Titans gone, and he can make more somehow, he's an obvious first target."
He raised a second finger. "Second, and almost as important. Apollo is likely plotting, even now, to kill off all of the Titans, out of a belief that the Jotun have some sort of mind-control device that can single someone out and control them for a few days; and only do it once, during the invasion. So he wanted anyone who could singlehandedly upend our defenses out of the equation. But..... he was wrong. With the Titans gone, they instead controlled hundreds or even thousands of unshielded personnel, and used them to release bioweapons and launch nukes. Apparently, the war was mostly over before any Jotun actually landed; the death of our fleet was the end of us. It seems highly probably that Apollo's ability to predict the future is limited by the events he's actively bringing about changes to, or, maybe, by the existence of our own precognitive muddying the waters."
"Third, Apollo knows the location of a superweapon that could possibly take out the Jotun, as well as this 'Emperor', concealed somewhere that the Minoan civilization had a presence; so likely somewhere in the mediteranean, on one of the islands.
"...I'd keep going, but to be honest, its possible Apollo is already working against us. He might even have planted an agent in Ground before it was founded with an eye on securing the means to kill Lightning and offing him during an experiment. The easiest way to tell whether its all bullshit is twofold. Grab Disaster. And talk to Apollo. If we need to kill him, we need to do it as soon as possible."
The director pushed back from his desk, grimacing at the creaking of old, worn ligaments as he slid to his feet. "I don't think Apollo has been against us this whole time. Project Ground wasn't really viable until we had a precog. Without that sort of prediction, we needed to get lucky. If his predictions were absolute, then he couldn't be fooled by another precog, and could kill Lightning before he ever got powers."
He started to slowly pace back and forth behind his desk, nodding to himself. "The only thing that makes sense is that another precog arriving on the seen changed things. Which means.... he likely already knows we have one now."
He stopped. "Disaster first. We've never had success copying powers or making a clone with them before, or even selectively giving powers; and none of our intel shows he should have. If we find out he's made some progress in that end...it'll serve as some real confirmation. Keep it classified, but... find the doctor. I'll make plans... and talk to our Titans."
***
The lab was a giant mess of tangled circuits, computers, and lab equipment, with tubes containing the preserved corpses of past failures, cages containing various animals, and of course the steady background hum of a trio of fabricators; and amidst it all stood a slightly heavyset man in a black and white labcoat, wearing a pair of heavy gauntlets with a variety of implements built into them, and some bulky goggles strapped to his pale, bald head.
Inside the cage, his Hydra lay, choking, miserable. It couldn't rise to its feet, and two of the anaconda-like heads were unconscious, while the third stared around the room listlessly; its komodo-dragon modeled body, augmented in size and theoretically in strength, simply laying there, limp.
In theory, this was just a body temperature and blood pressure issue. If he got the cybernetics installed, the creature would become viable; but while the Komodo forming up the base body had been a mutant strain with regenerative properties, and the other two heads were both grafts from the creature's siblings that had similar capabilities, the increased size and surgically altered digestive tracts, alongside having three brains to supply blood for, were too much for it. He gave this project, at best, a thirty percent chance of success.
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Still. Thirty percent was better than zero. He laid his left gauntlet against one of the creature's legs, and a faint hiss emerged; as a powerful sedative was injected into the beast; and the head, the only active part of it, drooped to join the rest of the body.
He tapped his wrist controls; first, everything needed to be thoroughly sanitized to ensure that, if it failed, it wasn't due to an infection. Then... the implants. Starting, of course, with the control chips for the brains, and the artificial heart.
As a rinse of sanitizing solution started to pass over the massive creature, he glanced up. One of the monitors showed a guard approaching the door, and the Mega-Spiders screeching and chittering, straining to try to reach him as he kept as far from them as possible while still being able to reach the doorknob.
Doctor Disaster sighed, leaving the sanitizing protocol running, as he started towards the door; and when the guard opened it, was waiting, arms crossed. "And what are you bothering me with now? Have you people finally decided to let me go?"
The guard glanced at the giant cybernetic spider-creatures. He was absolutely certain that those things could have killed him, the other guard, and a small army besides; they only lived for a few months each, their unusual size leading them to need augmentation to be able to move; but they could run far faster than any human, were venomous, and terrifying. "Doctor, we both know that's not how this works. I've been sent to ask if you could contribute anything that would be good for clearing a ship and a small island it's docked at, or sinking it without getting a too close, and if you want anything."
Disaster rolled his eyes behind the goggles. Even though he was scared shitless of the lab and its contents, the young cartel member still posed a threat to Disaster; he wasn't bulletproof... yet. "Hmmm. What sort of timetable are we looking at, and for how long? And the reason not to get too close?"
"Does it matter?"
"Of course. I've got a strain of altered Coconut Crab eggs that will hatch into a swarm of bloodthirsty monsters that will grow up to six feet across over the course of a few weeks. If its not too big of an island, we can simply dump the eggs somewhere local predators wouldn't eat them, and after they hatch, they'll swarm; eating any local wildlife and people, and once they run out of that, each other, until they reach their full 200-pound size. Any ships that happen to be docked during the initial phase would get at least a few of them aboard during the smaller stages, and then deal with voracious, unusually fast and deadly crabs swarming the ship."
As the man looked slightly horrified at the discussion, Disaster smiled. "That could work marvels, depending on logistics. I've also just got some birds I've been working on using as drones. Could simply attach a pack of C-4 to one and let it land on the boat. Foom. Have your boss get me the details of the target and why you want it gone, and I'll see what I can do. Maybe an aerosolized radioactive material to make the inhabitants choke themselves to death?" He rubbed his jaw with a finger.
"Oh. And get me a prostitute or two for a few days. Same place as last time, the madam there has excellent taste." To be fair, he just wanted some female companionship; making sure it was always from the same madam was mostly to make sure the cartel didn't simply kill the girls as soon as they left.
The guard backed away from the crazed doctor, shutting the warehouse door behind him, heading back out to call the boss... wondering how long it would be before he could get a job anywhere at all other than near this.... weirdo.
***
Excalibur looked down at the overhead image of the dock area, glancing around at the rest of the team, then back at Jason. "Okay. The boss says this op is partly because of your powers. Care to elaborate?"
"We'll need to wait a few days to get permission from the mexican government to move in, but. This warehouse..." He tapped the spot on the picture. "Is believed to contain the lab of one 'Doctor Disaster'. A metahuman with abnormal brain functions and an obsession with creating unusual creatures. It's guarded at all times by at least two Cartel soldiers; as well as a small army of whatever horrible monsters the doctor has cooked up. The one that got him his first batch of criminal charges were a nest of creatures that were, for all practical purposes, a blend of a wolverine, a bear, and a tractor. Including, at the very least, these...."
A drone image appeared, zoomed in on a cage that was beside one of the warehouse doors, sandwhiched between it and another warehouse. Inside... appeared what looked like a mutilated spider; and blurred shapes that might be dozens more. "From the scale, those things are three or four feet across. And we can assume they're just the tip of the iceberg. Creatures he's made have been used to ambush mexican police, to punish villages that defied the cartel.... and now that they know where the warehouse is, they're already preparing to just firebomb the place if their government doesn't let us move in."
He glanced around at the group. "And, of course, we need him alive. If my powers are to be believed, this man somehow knows, or soon will, how to 'create' a Titan. I don't know if that means a viable clone of one, or turning someone else into one.... but I had a vision of a future where he'd created one on our behalf, then been murdered to make sure he couldn't repeat the process."
"...Interesting. I'd say this could be a job Terminal might be able to handle on her own, but its always possible he has some tricks handy to deal with speedsters. Well. Nothing we haven't handled before. Normally we operate here in the US, but..." He stopped.
A yellow light-bulb had started to flash on the ceiling; and a siren blared out. "Well now. Looks like its a good thing we have to wait before heading out." Excalibur smiled. "I'm heading to the rooftop to get suited up."
Imperious stretched for a moment in a way that drew the eyes... she might be an alien, but she definitely tried to look like an attractive human. "I'll be suited and ready in about thirty seconds."
Jason blinked. How the hell could she put on a full suit of armor that fast? Didn't matter. "They've got a prototype suit already good to go for me, and are working on something more long-term now. I can grab it and get ready on the flight out if you want me along."
Excalibur nodded. "We take-off in five minutes. The chopper started warming up the moment the alarm sounded. If you can be there, with gear in hand, you're in. It's a yellow light, not a red, so I'll be waiting and flying alongside rather than just taking off the moment I'm ready. Hurry. Less than five would be better if you can manage it."
He took a step... and literally just floated up the stairs in a strange, smooth-looking movement; as Jason ran to grab the suit from the armory, he could see Imperious literally twisting her body into a mass of tentacles, grabbing dozens of individual armor pieces and sliding them into a roughly humanoid shape.... before he lost sight of it through the armory door. So. His first actual mission as a superhero. What would it be? Rescuing folks from a downed building? Stopping a bank robbery? He had a good feeling about this; it should be fun. Or at the very least, exciting.