෴Midnight෴
෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴
Where the Clues Take You
෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴
Midnight came to a sort of groggy half awareness to the morning sun and something poking at his leg. He started to roll over, then the pain of his injury woke him the rest of the way.
He closed his eyes and laid back, almost asleep when the poking started up again. Midnight cracked an eye to see a boy poking at him with a stick. Seeing him open his eyes, the boy started speaking in an unknown language. The air smelled strongly of animals.
Sitting up, Midnight realized the boy was part of a larger group. They were all working at various tasks. The adults would occasionally look over at him and the boy, but none of them stopped what they were doing.
Soon enough, other children had joined the first boy. By this time, Midnight had formed some clothing and made himself a stool to sit on from the mass of metal he’d been laying on.
The little boy kept talking to him, and then to the other children when they arrived. With the help of his mental abilities, Midnight grasped the language soon enough, and he chatted with the youngsters.
Before long there was a call shouted out and the children each waved or gave a shy smile before running off to the round tent-like structure setup nearby.
He got to his feet and stretched. The deep gash in his chest and shoulder itched abominably under the shiny strip of metal covering the layer of staples he’d closed it off with. A few experimental pokes at the area assured him it was healing right.
An appetizing aroma that was unfamiliar, but unmistakably food wafted by on the air. The first boy came back, speaking too fast, and pointed at the people gathered around the cookstove. He took the older man’s hand and pulled him toward the group.
With his rapidly increasing comprehension of their language, the invitation to join them and eat was clear. The very thought of food set his stomach grumbling. Midnight thanked them and accepted. He carried the stool over and sat down with the others.
Aside from the roast leg of lamb, the rest of the food was unusual and new to him. Setting aside his preconceived notions about food, it was all delicious and hearty food.
After the meal, the children asked him to play a game with them. The game appeared to have few hard rules, but mostly revolved around hitting or kicking an inflated ball into certain targets in the playing area. He played with them for a while, but wasn’t very good at it.
Later, as he was sitting on his stool and looking around the camp, Midnight couldn't help but contrast the generosity of these people who appeared to have little more than the possessions they carried with them, and people who had so much, but only wanted more.
Wondering how to repay them for their friendly hospitality, he looked around at what he could do. His hosts waved off his efforts to pay them with gold coins. One man looked at his stool formed from a single piece of alloyed steel and expressed some curiosity.
Midnight showed them what he could do with metal by forming his armor suit into several shapes in rapid succession. They looked on with wonder at the demonstration of his metal shaping ability. A small assortment of items he carried fell out of his suit as he mobilized the base metal mass. He looked over his extra items. The small compressed gas tank was intact, as was the GPS and multi network phone. He added these items to his lightweight metal outfit and looked at what was left. His satellite phone, neatly sheared in two, and the silver-gray metal business card. He left the items where they lay and went to repay his hosts.
Before he could even start, the oldest man in the group took him aside for a quick word. Out of earshot from the children, the group elder advised him to avoid travelling any further south, explaining that everyone in the area knew a man-eating demon lived there. Midnight thought about Mercator’s maniacal bloody grin, and just nodded.
Midnight’s breath caught as he thought about how much learning that had probably cost the people of this area. “Thank you for your counsel, I’ll avoid that area when I can. I hope you will as well.” he said in accented but otherwise reasonably good Mongolian.
A short time later, he’d repaired or replaced every piece of metal they had, and left them a few lengths of light flexible cable. He tried to offer them gold coins again, but they seemed disinterested in them. He was glad they seemed happy with what he could do for their tools and gear. His failure to deal with the ‘demon’ was a regret that burned far hotter. With a sad smile on his face, he turned from the friendly people and went back to where he’d left his remaining armor mass.
The sat phone was a loss that would hurt. He left the scrap electronics alone and picked up the brushed titanium business card. With only a name for a place he’d never heard of, and the gps coordinates. Something about those numbers nagged at him. He pulled out his phone and took a picture of the card. The previous image was a picture of numbers written in blood on a stone.
“How did I not see that?”
He punched in the numbers scrawled on the stone by the dead pilot into his GPS. Seconds later he was back in what was left of his armor and hurtling through the sky toward Morocco.
*** *** ***
The coordinates led him to an airstrip in the middle of nowhere along a deserted strip of coastline. Midnight looked around and saw nothing particularly unusual. It was a typical small airfield. A long packed earth landing strip, a cluster of hangars next to it, a large storage shed set way off by itself, and a pair of fuel trucks. The hangars were in good repair; the airstrip looked large enough to allow fairly big aircraft to come in. He studied it from the air for a few minutes before concluding that it was a refueling station.
He descended in silence between two of the larger buildings. When he turned the corner into the main open area, he looked like a typical aviator in a black and grey jumpsuit carrying his helmet. He regretted not having time to make himself look like a local, but didn’t want to waste time if this was a dead end.
His gut told him there was a connection. He peeked into each of the hangars. One plane had both of its engines stripped down for maintenance, but there was no one to be found. Each hangar was equipped with tools and spare parts. He couldn’t tell if the parts went with the planes, but assumed they did.
Finding no one in the hangars or out in the field, he moved on to the main office. He heard the flies just before the smell hit him. A smell he associated with roadkill. Rotting meat left out in the sun for days. There was another scent he couldn't quite name, but it reminded him of the scent surrounding the downed plane in the Himalayas.
After retreating a ways and forming his armor, he took a breath and sealed the suit. Satisfied that he wouldn’t have to smell it, he floated to the door and caused it to swing open.
The main room was littered with corpses. A gun rack against the wall was full of AK-47 rifles. It was untouched. The men in mechanic overalls and similar jumpsuits appeared to have collapsed in place, and never gotten back up. Off to the side there was a door leading to a smaller office.
The office was surprisingly high tech for the simpler looking exterior. A wall of screens scrolled by, showing empty telemetry data feeds. Above the monitors he spotted a carved wooden sign proclaiming, “The Customer is almost always wrong, but don’t tell them that!” He got a chuckle out of that.
“What's your connection to that plane? Damnit. I don’t have time to play detective.” Midnight chastised himself.
He floated out of the main office, and looked over at the storage shed set so far away from the rest of the buildings. When he got close, he could feel all the weaponry inside and understood why it was so far from the rest of the buildings. Inside he found racks loaded with various types of air deployed munitions. He recognized the rack of AIM-9 Sidewinder missiles. Next to them was a smaller rack filled with smaller missiles he didn’t recognize. The large crate next to them was labeled as a ground launch system for AGM-114 Hellfire missiles. Midnight passed several other types of bombs and missiles before spotting a rack containing one chemical weapon cruise missile that looked just like the one he’d found in the downed airplane. The rack had space for three more. He glanced around the shed for any more clues. A rack of long heavy bombs had seven empty slots. The boxes identified them as GBU-28’s.
“Well, the planes are one thing, but I can’t just leave all this.”
With great care, he harvested rare metals from the munitions. Once he’d gathered all that he felt confident in taking, he replenished his armor mass with the aircraft and weapons grade steel alloys until he was ready to cast aside his old suit, not unlike a molting insect. His old suit, he reshaped into a large pile of 10mm sockets, and left them near the hangars.
With a heavy heart, he returned to the main office and gathered up every piece of technology and paperwork he could find. He did the same in each of the hangars. Once it was all gathered up, he enclosed all the evidence in a tight fitting metal shell and got to work on the site. Moving the fuel trucks was the first step.
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Later, he floated a few feet off the water and watched the fireworks for a few minutes before heading off west, hauling the load of equipment. The fire and explosions would take care of the weapons, while leaving the rest more or less untouched.
*** *** ***
When he finally reached the Keys, and turned north along the coast of Florida, he took the opportunity to call Hex.
The tone that indicated successful end to end line encryption beeped after a few seconds.
“What do you want?” her tone was less than welcoming.
“Is everything ok?” He asked.
“No! Everything is not ok. I have a lot on my plate and you made it a damn sight harder blasting a damn hole in my stairwell!”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t—” he started.
“Are you losing it?” she demanded. “I saw you. I talked to you. You look bad. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you need to get some rest or something.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m telling you, I did not do that!” he exclaimed.
He sighed to himself. This wasn’t going to be easy, “I’ve found Adele. I think—” he trailed off
“Glad to hear you’re thinking. You should make time for that more often. Again, what do you want? I’m really busy at the moment.” she snapped.
“You are?” he couldn't restrain his incredulity. “How much does it take to make you busy?”
“You don’t even know. I’m organizing a revolution at work, trying to keep Raz safe while he gallivants around the world, stealing military hardware in case I need to kill a freaking Kaiju, and now you want something. What. Do. You. Want?” The naked anger and frustration in her voice was enough to cause Midnight to stop and question himself, wondering where he’d gone wrong.
“What kind of military hardware are you looking for?” He asked, hoping to placate her.
Her patience sounded like it was nearing its end. “Why, you got a line on some bunker busters, or maybe chemical weapons? Some hellfire launcher batteries?”
“Uh, no, sorry.” he answered, his voice small at the thought of the munitions he’d just put to the torch.
“You’re gonna have to slow down. I can barely hear you over the wind noise” she shouted.
He slowed enough to get the wind noise under control. “That better?”
“Yeah, a little. What about a suitcase nuke?” she retorted, her tone betraying a complete lack of confidence.
“Look, I’m not even sure those are real. But! I know a guy that can get one if they exist, if you’re serious about that.” he replied as he slowed down and dropped to a lower elevation.
She inhaled audibly, then signed. When she replied, her tone was a touch more conciliatory. “Sure, get one. All I can find right now is anti-tank missiles, so a little nuke might be just the thing.”
Midnight thought about how he could get a hold of a nuclear device. The thought that a nuke might solve his Mercator problem was appealing until he thought about the people in the area that would be harmed.
When he didn’t reply immediately, her tone sharpened. “You’ve never called to just chat, so tell me what you want so I can get this aspect back to work. These missiles won’t stack themselves.”
He grimaced again at the thought of the weapons he’d so recently destroyed. “I do need some things.”
“No kidding. What?” she snapped.
“Big picture, I need a technopath I can trust to look through some hardware for information. That and I need someone to go through some paperwork for the same info.”
“Yeah, I know a guy who can probably help.” she replied. “What else?”
“Well, right now, I need a place to leave the package.”
He could picture her closing her eyes and shaking her head in the long pause before her reply.
“Ok, I’ll send you this aspect’s current location. I can’t afford to have this location blown, so use some discretion, you know, like try not to crash through any walls on the way in ok?”
“I’m telling you, I didn’t do—”
“Whatever. Is there anything else you need?”
He hesitated.
“Just spit it out.” she said with exasperation in her voice.
“I think I’m going to need some help.” He admitted.
She choked back a harsh laugh. “I’m sorry, I think I misheard you. What was that?”
He should have known this was coming. Such bad timing. “I need some help. Do you know any heavy hitters who’d be willing to help out for the right price?”
She laughed. “It’s funny you ask. The answer is, sort of. What’s your eta?”
He looked at the ground, then at his gps. “Two minutes if I fly in, ten if I drive the last few miles.”
“Make it ten. We’ll talk about it then.”
A little over fifteen minutes later, he pulled into the rural storage unit in his boxy cargo van vehicle.
He found her near a unit, looking at a watch and tapping her toe. When she saw him, her expression changed, became more guarded.
He pulled the van into the large bay style storage unit before reforming the vehicle into his armor. This left the bundle of tech and paperwork set neatly along the wall. Only then did he notice the size of the arsenal in the storage unit.
“You have a lot of hardware here.”
“You look different.” she said with an accusation in her voice.
“Different than what?” he asked.
She looked at his face, moving to see it from other angles. “You look better. What’s the story on the card?”
“What card?” He asked, starting to wonder what was happening here.
She shook her head. “Never mind. You need to store this stuff here until I can get info from it?”
“Yes, who’s the tech you have in mind?” He made his armor into a large solid chair and sat down to take a load off.
She narrowed her eyes at him sitting down. “Don’t get too comfy. We’re out of here soon. The tech is someone I work with, which brings us to what I need from you.”
“Sure, whatever you need.” He hastened to say.
She smiled for the first time. Somehow this made him a little uneasy. “I’m so glad to hear you say that.”
She pulled out a written list, “Think of it as an investment if you like, but I’ll need it sooner rather than later.”
He looked over the list. She was looking for a complete list of every remaining safehouse, every offsite norn and field team, all his surviving enhanced personnel and a sum of money that made him blink and take a shocked breath.
“That...is a lot. What are you planning?” He looked at the list in confusion.
“Isn’t it obvious? You need your support system back in place. I’m sure it won't be as complete, but you clearly need the help while you learn to do more with what you have. Doing it fast and quiet is going to be expensive.” she explained as though speaking to a child.
He looked at her in confusion. “But why? You sound like you hate me, and, why?”
She smiled a predator's grin that didn’t reach her eyes, “First, I’m stressed, busy, upset, scared, and a little annoyed and angry at you. That’s not hate. Second, I’m going to run this little operation, and you’re funding my breakaway from WD40.” she shrugged, “So, are you in or what?”
He nodded. “Yeah, it sounds great. I’ve got—” he felt around his armor mass, “Well, have you got a good place to sell precious metals without saturating a local market?”
She smirked, “I think I can handle it.”
“Ok then,” coins started falling out of his armor. “This should be plenty to get started. How soon can I expect your tech to look this over?”
She shrugged, “I’ll get him on it today. No idea how long it will take,” she looked at the growing pile of coins, “Do you just carry a lot of precious metals with you all the time?”
“I always have some, never know what kind of alloy I’ll need. This right now? Leftover from paying bills.”
She seemed to be struck by an epiphany, “New topic. Have you ever heard of an anchor beast?”
He nodded, “Yes, I thought that might be what you were talking about when you said Kaiju. Don’t get your hopes up. I’ve killed them before, and sometimes it closes the incursion, and other times it just shrinks it, and the damn thing just starts growing again.” He sighed, seeming lost in memory, “Big picture, I’m not even sure if it actually delays them at all.”
She looked at him with an odd expression. “You’ve killed them before? Which ones?”
He leaned forward, resting his head in his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I misspoke, I usually kill the Antarctica incursion boss early on, because it’s a pain to deal with later, and the politics of military help there is a nightmare.”
Her face turned calculating, “That, is an interesting thing to say. Have you done it more than once?”
He groaned softly, “I can’t have this conversation right now. Is there anything else I can do now?"
She twitched and tapped her forehead with her fingertips. “Yes! Jeeze, I almost forgot. Maybe I’m no better than Wilson. I have an address for someone who needs some major ability help.”
An aspect flickered in and handed her a phone before vanishing. She pulled up an image. “This is what his hands look like now.”
He looked at them, more than a little aghast. “That is going to need more than just ability help. I’ll try, but just looking at those hands, he needs a pretty talented healer working with me. I have someone who might be up for it, but her process is slow, maybe too slow. She can regenerate limbs, but I have no idea how it would work with this mess.”
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. After a moment of consideration, she chose her words carefully. “Hard to say for sure, but I might also know someone with a pretty decent healing ability if you don’t have anyone good enough, or if they can work together.”
He got up and formed his armor around him. “I don’t know about that. Two healers in one place on one patient is a high-quality problem I’ve never run into.”
She nodded and stepped outside the storage unit with him.
“What do you need the heavy hitters for?” She asked as she enabled several concealed security devices.
“I found Adele, and I’m…” he swallowed and took a shaky breath, “I’m not sure I can get her out safely on my own. I cannot overstate the danger she’s in. I don’t know how much time she has.”
Hex pursed her lips. “That’s bad. Probably should have led with that. I’ll help. What’s the plan?”
He shook his head. “You’re one of the few people I know for certain couldn’t help. Your ability is exactly the sort his can easily overpower. You especially, never want to run into someone who can perform spatial or dimensional locking.”
She closed and locked the unit while she thought about that. “That does sound like a bad thing for me. Again, what’s the plan?”
He let out an exasperated sigh, “If I had a plan, I’d have led with that. I’m going to get some cows and hope it buys me some time, but I don’t know what else to do,” he spoke without hope.
Her expression softened, “Hey, we’ll figure this out.”