“So, does he do that a lot?”
“Do what?”
“Just take off like that without a word.”
Cammy finally let go of the worn down ceiling handle affixed to the roof of Firebreak’s truck as they pulled out onto an actual, real, not-a-damned-game-trail, gravel road that zigzagged down the mountainside and into the town proper. She flexed her sore fingers, attempting to let a bit of blood to flow back into them. At least the cold wasn’t as bad as it was a couple hours ago when they’d ascended the mountain thanks to the sun and a generous application of fire "workings," as Firebreak called them. Those two in conjunction even forced her to ditch her jacket just before they'd packed up.
“Pretty much. Uncle Wilhelm’s not much for niceties,” Firebreak said with an embarrassed grimace. "Old school military."
"From before."
Her super nodded gravely but said nothing. The history books didn't talk about it much, but regular people had to shoulder the burden of a superpowered universe long before the organization that would become AHAB was conceived. That usually meant the military, though multiple three-letter agencies had to work overtime as well. In those early days after the incident in Eckles, the world had gone off the rails, and the world's various factions clashed on the global stage for the first time in 60 years, without ever declaring war. The introduction of supers into the world created a scientific gold rush, one that everyone was willing to kill to be a part of. Wilhelm looked to be about the right age to have been a part of that, and she could almost envision the gruff man on a battlefield somewhere half-way around the world fighting to stay alive as the new gods of the universe stepped onto the field.
Cammy blinked, coming out of her daydream. She turned her head to look back into the bed of the truck where Wilhelm's motorcycle shook and rattled against the cab. “Why'd he leave without his bike though?” she asked, hoping to bring the discussion back to the present.
“My guess is that he spotted one of those bighorns up on the ridge," Firebreak said with a little laugh. "And he saw an opportunity to fill up his freezer. Afterward, he’ll probably call one of his buddies to come pick him up after the kill, and they’ll split the meat.”
Cammy hadn’t noticed anything on the ridge. She’d been more focused on Firebreak’s continued demonstration of remarkable ability to change the properties of fire. The man wasn’t just shaping the stuff, he changed how fire behaved, the rules it followed. This put his power much more in line with other first generation supers, and that meant that the laws of physics weren't so much law as sort of half-hearted pleas from reality's hall monitor. If this is what the man came up with on his own, what could he do with Company backing and training?
The first order of business would be getting Firebreak into the public eye, so that the powers that be were forced to devote resources to building him up. Then, with a little work, the two of them could rise to the world stage and really hope to change things for the better. Hopefully.
Gregory Basin stretched out below them amidst the pines and aspens. Little neighborhoods peeked through the branches to catch some of the morning sun, and roads wound through the twisting geography and over the multitude of river forks where tiny knots of people cast fishing lines into the water or floated on boats, doing the same. Trickles of vehicle traffic left the little houses in commute to the businesses of Gregory Basin or turned North or West to go over the passes to neighboring towns. She spotted a convoy of white construction company trucks headed south toward a bald hilltop where multiple boxy conexes and heavy machinery waited for their arrival. Meanwhile, herds of deer could be seen munching on greenery beside the roads and in some people's yards.
Proximity, like it always did, seemed to bring the place into sharper focus. It was all so alive in a way she hadn't noticed from her vantage in the Eastern pass.
From her pocket her phone buzzed as the vibration function kicked in, causing her to jump and her heart to skip a beat. The trip off trail down the mountain had frazzled her nerves more than she wanted to admit. If Firebreak had noticed, he didn't give any indication.
Black Sabbath started to sing about generals gathered in their masses just as she dug into her pocket and pulled the phone to check the screen. The name -BANKS- displayed under the contact information.
Cammy looked over at Firebreak who had a puzzled frown on his face. “What?”
Keeping his hands on the wheel but his eyes on her, he shrugged. “Dunno. I expected something poppy.”
She rolled her eyes and accepted the call.
“Banks. Did the parking meter run out or something?”
No, mum. I have paid the fee for several more hours.
“Just a joke, Banks. What’s up?”
I have detected several instances of undue attention paid to this vehicle, and protocol dictates that I send an encrypted backup to my nearest mainframe and call for assistance.
That brought a little bemused frown to her face. “You do stand out. Are you sure it’s not just curious people?”
Unlikely, mum. Several individuals have passed by me multiple times in the past hour. I have taken pictures and am sending them to you now. Additionally, I have detected multiple pings keyed to Firebreak’s AHAB tag while the suspicious activity has taken place.
“Wait, what? How?” She asked, her confusion giving way a little to alarm.
Unknown. I would like to request permission to move to a new location or activate countermeasures.
“They haven’t made any threatening moves?”
Not as of yet, mum.
“Stay there for now. Record everything, especially digital traffic. How are we on mosquitos.”
My reserves were depleted the night we arrived in Gregory Basin, mum. Replacements are being sent from the quartermaster.
Damn. That was her fault, deploying them all like she did when she wanted to see her super in action. “Okay, keep me posted.”
She ended the call and stared down at the screen for a moment to gather her thoughts. After a moment, pictures started to stream in from Banks' cameras.
“What’s going on?” Firebreak asked never looking away from the road but tilting his head toward her in interest.
Cammy scrolled through the various images of four men straight on and in profile, all of them ranging from mid-twenties to middle aged. Rugged looking guys. “There are suspicious people downtown looking for you and maybe looking for me.”
“What are they doing?”
The pictures revealed nothing on that front. All the images showed was them walking past Banks on the street or maybe stopping to tie one of their boots as they went. “Nothing yet. Just looking. They’ve got your AHAB tag ID.”
“Wow. Sure it’s not your people?" Firebreak asked, adopting a skeptical expression. "They said they’d be sending someone to take over the investigation right? I wouldn't put it past a gigantic bureaucracy to neglect to inform you as to who your colleagues are.”
Cammy shook her head in denial. “If they were Company, Banks would have recognized them.”
“Guess that depends on what Banks is allowed to tell you. What do you want to do? If they’re looking for trouble, I don’t really want to get into a thing in the middle of downtown,” Firebreak stated, echoing Cammy's feelings on the matter as well.
She bit her lip as she thought about the problem. “Well, our best intelligence asset is there right now recording everything, so we leave Banks where he is. Then we need to figure out who they are and why they want to find us, and that doesn't necessarily mean letting them find us. I mean, I’m leaning toward these being Hugh’s people, but I don’t want to make huge assumptions.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Firebreak steered them north mixed in with a few cars making their way to the north pass, away from downtown. The super looked pensive. “If it’s Hugh’s group, that means we’ve been upgraded to targets. We weren’t targets at the hospital. What’s changed?”
Cammy pondered for a moment, turning the problem over in her head as they waited for the traffic light to turn. She voiced her thoughts out loud. “We’re assuming Brian Maldonado was their original target, but that plan failed and failed so spectacularly that they were exposed. By us. Could be revenge. Maybe wiping their list of witnesses clean.”
“Possible, but it doesn’t add up if they're half way competent. Why risk coming here after getting caught just yesterday? Lots of people saw Hugh's face at the hospital too. Not just us." He poked holes in her theory almost instantly. Cammy tried not to feel insecure about that. She was supposed to be the brains of this operation.
After a short pause at the intersection, Firebreak put on the blinker and turned east. "You need to talk to Patty and find out why guys like this want her husband dead,” he declared.
“What? Why me?” She asked with some measure of nervousness. She didn't know Mrs. Maldonado like Firebreak did. Even if he didn't know the woman, they at least lived in the same town among the same people. The two women had no common ground.
“Because I’ll be outside while you two talk. If we’re going to keep it off the books, we have to do security the old fashioned way.”
"And I can't do security because-" she drew the last syllable out, daring Firebreak to answer the question with even a hint of sexism.
"It’s best that if I get into an altercation, it should be outside."
Damnit. He was right about that one. “I can call the hospital to see if she’s there,” she said with a sigh, tapping her phone to bring it to life.
“Don’t bother. Gregory Basin ISD is doing at home learning today. They’ll be at the hotel.” Firebreak stated matter-of-factly.
Cammy smacked her head into the cracked headrest behind her in frustration. “Is there an email list I need to get on or something?" she growled. Would it kill the universe to let her react to something correctly today? "Whatever. It’s better than just walking into downtown looking for a fight, I guess.”
—-----------------------------
When Joseph pulled the truck into the parking lot of the OP pump station instead of into the parking lot to the hotel, Johansen gave him a look.
“What? He asked with a confused shake of his head and a shrug.
“I’ve known you for two days,” she pronounced, holding up two fingers for emphasis. “Two days and you’ve set two buildings on fire. Forgive me if I feel uncomfortable visiting a gas station in your presence.”
Joseph scoffed and killed the engine. He’d gone his whole life only burning down what needed burning down, and he’d challenge anyone to tell him the Maldonado home didn’t need it. In regard to the hospital, however, he would entertain some criticism.
The pump station was next door to their real destination, a hotel screened by a row of hedges and regularly planted pine trees, but Joseph swept the gas station's lot as he got out of the truck anyway. Other than an older woman in a puffy jacket at pump number three, they were the only ones there, though the security cams that covered the pumps didn’t go unnoticed by his practiced eyes. Footage of he and the Company woman headed to the hotel would be available to the authorities, but an AHAB card got you out of a lot of tight spaces even if it got you into some as well.
He reached into the duffel bag and pocketed a few of the reds he didn’t expend at the range, then he opened the tool box, grabbing an unassuming 9mm Billings he kept in a waterproof bag. Cradling the piece in his hands down in the truck bed to keep casual observers from seeing, he checked the magazine and slapped it into the well.
Johansen watched him arm up with obvious trepidation in her expression.
Giving her a little smile he hoped was reassuring he said: “Just in case. Would rather have it an not need it.”
“It’s not that. I know it needs to be done,” she said with slight hesitation. “It just seems like we were just here yesterday.”
Joseph cocked and eyebrow and made a show of looking around in confusion.
"Not here, here. I mean with the guns and the armed thugs."
The world hadn't really given Johansen a chance to decompress from her first shootout. Had it? His eyes dropped down into the truck bed as he sighed sympathetically. “Yeah, I know. I'm sorry.”
Johansen stared at the pistol in his hand, biting her lip and holding onto the lip of the truck bed as if trying to steady herself. “You have another one of those?” she asked, surprising him.
Joseph raised his eyebrow questioningly, but the woman had clearly come to some kind of decision about how she wanted to move. Nodding, he flipped the weapon until he held it by the barrel and offered it to her. “I’ve got my fire. You can have the piece.”
To her credit, her hand didn’t shake as she gripped the weapon. Johansen put it inside her waist band under her jacket then shook out her arms. “Really hope I don’t have to use it.”
“That’s the idea,” he replied, back to doing visual sweeps around lot.
Johansen chuckled bitterly from the other side of the truck. "I feel like I'm cheating on my Mark II."
"I won't tell if you won't," he replied, still not meeting the Company woman's eyes. Work like this always seemed to take up all of his mind's bandwidth, leaving no room for much else like social interaction. Joseph reached into the cab and locked the vehicle then came around the front to join Johansen, who looked nervous but ready, already looking to the path they'd take to get to the hotel.
The hedges that separated the OP station and the hotel were bisected by a little sidewalk that allowed guests to go to the convenience store and back at all hours. Joseph knew the hotel, The Western Driver, at least by reputation, to be clean and fairly cheap, a sort of beige, U-shaped building with two floors where the room doors faced into an inner courtyard with a pool and recreation area. It was a favorite for folks that needed rooms from week to week like hunters or contractors.
A parking lot surrounded the building except for near the awning where prospective residents unloaded their luggage during check-in. There weren’t many empty spaces in the lot, as it seemed that the Western Driver did good business this time of year, perhaps a last rush before winter set in.
“She’s in 203. I’ll head up there, and you do superhero stuff,” Johansen proclaimed pointing two fingers at her eyes for emphasis. "If you get into a super fight I want video footage." Then she broke off and headed for the covered breezeway leading to the inner courtyard.
“We should talk about what 'off the books' means,” he called after her, but she gave no indication that she heard.
Patting his pockets to reassure himself his workings were there, Joseph went to work, bending down to adjust the elastic ankle on his sweatpants and running a quick check under all of the vehicles. Then he started working his way from the outer perimeter inward, looking for anything out of place and keeping an eye on who came and went. There were two company trucks in the lot, white ones that were otherwise unmarked. That struck him as odd, since most of the construction or petroleum jobs would have already started by now, but on its own it wasn’t totally out of place.
He made his way around the front of the hotel to the entrance pretending to talk on a headset by cupping his hand over his ear and mumbling to himself from time to time. The clear glass that allowed the clerk to see out into the parking lot had a good bit of glare, but the clerk appeared to be speaking animatedly to a man in jeans and a tan workman’s jacket. Joseph didn’t dare get closer, but he was pretty sure there was a bulge under the man’s jacket where a shoulder holster might be. Also unusual but not entirely, The locals tended to carry on their belts, loud and proud. This was Montana after all, and the Scar was right there. Lots of people walked around armed, but the holster's location was noteworthy nonetheless.
Around the corner of the building, Joseph came upon the inner courtyard where all of the doors faced an empty pool surrounded by a wrought iron fence, plastic outdoor furniture, and two charcoal grills repurposed from oil drums. The first floor of the hotel had few rooms where guests actually stayed. Instead, there was a laundromat, half a dozen vending machines, and a little gym.
The breezeway where Johansen had entered the hotel was directly on the opposite side of the pool from Joseph, where a man wearing jeans, a denim jacket, and work boots leaned up against the siding of the building, watching the parking lot on the other side. His posture screamed casual, but the way he didn’t let his right arm drape over the pistol tucked under his jacket gave him away. If he didn’t have something in there, his arm would been draped more naturally at his side, but his desire to hide that he was armed made his posture slightly more conspicuous.
Joseph kept moving, watching the guy in denim in his periphery as he made his way around the U. Once he was out of the man's line of sight, he started actively checking the alcoves and little rooms that made up the hotel's bottom floor. Up ahead, the pounding of a fist on hollow plastic reached his ears before he came around the corner to find a squat man with a ponytail in a loose button down shirt tucked into jeans banging away at the front of one of the vending machines. What skin the man had showing was covered in dark tattoos from his hands and forearms all the way up his neck and along his jawline, leaving the top of his face and expansive forehead unmarked.
Unable to stay particularly quiet thanks to his boots and his bound leg, it only took tattoo guy a second to look up from the machine he was pounding away on to eye Joseph, and in that moment where surprise registered in his eyes, his hand seemed to drift toward the back of his waist before he stopped himself.
Joseph nodded to the man as casually as he could and walked on by, hoping to delay being found out until he was in an advantageous position.
Three armed men seemingly hanging around outside of Patty Maldonado’s hotel room: One in the breezeway, one at the vending machines, another in the hotel lobby, and at least one, Joseph assumed, he hadn’t spotted as of yet. He'd found it was always good to assume there was one more. So, now that he’d confirmed the presence of potential threats, now what? They hadn’t done anything so far that warranted a call to the police. Hell, if standing around and looking rough was a crime, Uncle Wilhelm would spend way more time in jail than he already did.
These guys didn’t act like security, that’s for sure. Joseph had encountered a lot of lookouts in his time, whether they were bodyguards protecting their charge or thugs going for a smash and grab. The thing about lookouts was that they were there to look out, as in look outward for possible trouble. These men, armed as they were, didn’t seem concerned about outside threats nearly as much as they should have been. Instead, they idled around room 203, seeming to wait for something.
All in all it was odd. It was unknown, and Joseph didn’t like it.
Instead of coming up on the man in the breezeway, Joseph limped past and to the other side of the horseshoe and ducked inside the laundromat, a long, thin room with washers and dryers with swinging doors lined up along the sides stacked on top of each other leading to another exit that came out on the outside of the U and the parking lot. As Joseph made his way through the walkway to the opposite exit he had to close the doors of a few of the machines people had left open in their rush to get going either this morning or last night.
He was about halfway through the room when the doorway in front of him darkened with the form of one of the suspicious characters. This one, Joseph recognized as the guy from the lobby from how he was dressed in jeans and a tan workman’s jacket. He was a middle aged man with a weathered face and an impressively bushy beard that seemed to bristle outward as much as down toward his collarbone. In his hand he held a black cylindrical device with two sharp looking prongs, a device Joseph recognized as a stun gun. Beard, as Joseph now dubbed him, stepped over the threshold and filled the narrow walkway, keeping his weapon hand forward and slightly bent with his other arm held out as if ready to wrap Joseph up if the stun gun wasn't enough.
So it was like that, was it?