Vulnerable part 3

Gwendolyn Besson was living under her own name in a small French village where she was employed as a consultant. It was all very mundane and unassuming for a former international thief. “Either she has nothing to hide…,” Jill Frakes told Lowana Jones, “Or she wants to make it seem she has nothing to hide.” When they arrived at her home, the agents separated to achieve two objectives with Frakes being the one to knock on the front door. Soon, a lively old woman answered whose youthful smile defied her years.

“You’re not the first Interpol agent to speak to me,” she told Frakes as she calmly sipped her tea, “But you are the first IMD agent. I think your organization has far more to worry about than some old woman who used to swipe a bit of jewelry.”

“Normally, you’d be correct,” Frakes told her, “But your name came up during our current investigation regarding a gold vault in Austria. A thief used a suit of armor to break in and steal millions of dollars worth of gold. When we checked satellite footage during the time of the heist, we saw a mysterious object flying from Austria to this location.”

“You think I had something to do with that? I retired years ago, but let’s assume I had some frustration regarding that silly vault and was foolish enough to make a second attempt. Where on Earth would I get this… suit of armor, was it?”

“Finding out where these suits came from is exactly our concern.”

“When I was still in business, I had no need for something that high-tech and you would know that if you looked into my case a little. Leave the detective work to the detectives, dear. Perhaps you should be spending your time protecting us against another alien invasion.”

Just then, Lowana Jones teleported into her kitchen, holding a metal helmet, “Found this under the floorboards along with enough gold to buy the Eiffel Tower.” Besson jolted in her seat but quickly regained her composure once she accepted her fate.

“Fine,” Besson took another sip of tea and set the cup back on the saucer indignantly, “If you need me to say it, I was pissed that I never succeeded with that vault and wanted another shot. The suit was me trying a new approach.”

“Where did you buy the armor?”

“Oh dear, you know I can’t tell you that. And yes, I understand that you will now do what’s typical of a police officer and threaten me for the information. What is that saying in America?… ‘Not my first rodeo?’ I’ll do a few more years in an Austrian prison; they’re not so bad.”

“I’m afraid it’s a bit more severe than that. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this but within the past week, there has been a terrorist attack in Dubai and a hostage situation with pirates in the Arabian Sea. Both groups were wearing the same model of armor you have in your possession. Like it or not, you are now a key suspect in an international metahuman investigation that involves terrorism and piracy… It holds a far worse punishment than doing a few years in a medium-security prison. You’re a part of this now and no one’s going to take it easy on you with that level of heat… but I’m sure cooperating with our investigation will go a long way.”

Besson sat back tiredly, “Very well. I’ll tell you all I know.”

Later that day, in the IMD Debriefing Room, Frakes displayed holographic images of an island with an old castle as well as a spy photo of a young man with long hair and sunglasses. Pierce and the Badges scanned the photos as they came into the room and took seats around the wide, round table.

“This is Billy Bacchus,” Frakes began as she indicated the man in the photo, “Real name: Gouliélmos Gazis, a Greek citizen who came from old money. To be more precise, his father owned one of the largest shipping companies in Europe and could trace his ancestry back to a Duke of Athens,” Frakes indicated the picture of a small island with a castle, “This island’s been in the family for a little over a century and is located just outside Greek waters, so of course, Billy Bacchus currently lives there. In more recent years, he’s been suspected of arms dealing but since his island is on international waters, there’s little that can be done unless he leaves.”

“Okay, he’s rich and comes from a powerful family,” Alam spoke up, “Why sell weapons?”

“He was once caught on camera saying, and I quote, ‘I’m rich and bored so I need a bit more than what society offers. If the world had given me better toys, I’d have behaved myself’ so that’s who we’re dealing with.”

“Any idea how he came to own power armor?,” Pierce asked.

“None, sir, but we’ll find out soon enough.”

“Tell me about this dark web forum of his.”

“Invitation only. It’s how he communicates with buyers. Besson’s profile has been closed but we got enough data for Soyeon to hack the site. It’ll be a good way to observe who might be buying his weapons.”

“What are your immediate plans?”

“I’d like to take the entire team to the island to disrupt operations. Shock and awe, sir.”

“Well done. Godspeed, Badges.”

Several minutes later, the Cloudburst soared over rushing waves. The island was too small to land on, so they opted to go by boat. The ship hovered low and finally came to a soft landing on the water. Soon, the rear-hatch opened and an armored boat flew out of the back; the team met in the lower deck while the vessel was driven via computer-guidance.

“There’s a small port on the East side,” Frakes told the team, “We pop up there and blast our way into his house. We take Bacchus alive and bring him back to the Cloudburst for questioning. Bronson, you draw fire.”

“As always.”

“Klausman, you got point.”

“I can search every inch of that island in less than a minute.”

“Jones, when we find our man, you teleport back here and restrain him.”

“Consider it done.”

“Alam is with me. I’ll phase us through the house while Alam runs defense. Now that everyone has their orders…”

Frakes was cut off by the sound of gunfire. “Looks like the Coast Guard spotted us,” Bronson said as he rushed up the steps to the deck. The others followed and soon found a speed boat running alongside them with a gunman waving an automatic rifle with one hand and holding a megaphone with the other. “This is a private island,” the gunman announced, “Please turn back immediately.”

“Do we let ‘im know?,” Alam asked Frakes.

“I’d rather not announce our presence. Bring us onboard.”

Alam raised a hand and the team prepared themselves to be launched telekinetically to the opposite vessel. To everyone’s surprise, however, there was no effect and none were more shocked than Alam himself. He summoned telekinetic energy from within his body just as he had many times before but the power wasn’t there. He had no chance to explain the problem to his teammates since the gunman, having grown impatient, raised his rifle and fired.

Klausman was surprised that the guard managed to fire several rounds before he could react. In fact, he couldn’t even perceive the bullets sailing through the air as he had before and was left flat-footed. The world was still going in slow motion around him but not in the manner he was normally used to. It was then that he realized he no longer had superspeed. What’s more, Bronson was hit.

Normally, this wouldn’t be an issue as his role on the team was to act as a human shield but this time was also different. A bullet tore through his shoulder and threw him to the deck. When he fell, he clutched his wound in pain and blood escaped between his finger, “Bloody hell?” Seeing the carnage around them, Frakes turned to Jones and, as if anticipating the question, Jones told her quietly, “I can’t teleport.” Frakes didn’t even make an attempt at phasing as the situation was now obvious. They were vulnerable.

****

IMD Session: Blitz (Klausman)

Dr. Ansari waited for the next subject while filling out paper work; she checked her watch and noticed it was a minute before the session and the agent hadn’t arrived yet. It wouldn’t have been that surprising but she knew what this person was capable of and the profile given to her stated he was particularly punctual. Half a second passed and a strong wind kicked up in the office which blew the papers out of her hand. As she reached out to catch them, she noticed Adrian Klausman happily handing them back to her in a neat stack, “Sorry about that.” There was another blur and he was suddenly sitting in the seat across from her.

“So…,” Dr. Ansari sat the papers on a nearby desk, “Blitz?”

“Yes.”

“You’re pretty fast.”

“I can break the sound barrier with enough ground.”

“That is fast.”

“And fun. I have a lot of free time to read or learn new skills. I taught myself guitar last week, although I burned through quite a few strings.”

“It certainly sounds like you keep busy,” she said happily, then glanced at her notes, “Your profile says you were a grenadier for Switzerland’s Special Forces Command. Could you tell me what that is?”

“It’s one of the toughest special forces units in the world, despite the Swiss stereotype. Anyone who knows anything about special forces knows it’s one of the toughest units,” he laughed a bit, “Not that I’m biased.”

“That’s what IMD represents, isn’t it? Best of the beat?”

“Best of the best. Absolutely.”

“Now, as I understand, Director Pierce wanted a team member with superhuman speed but many recruits refused. Why do you think that is?”

“Superhuman reaction time has the nasty downside of seeing everything in slow motion. It’s why I can be a bit impulsive. Oh, and there’s the metabolism issue. I have to consume more calories than anyone else. It’s a lot to maintain.”

“But when offered superspeed, you agreed to it.”

“Military guys like me are used to waiting around for other people. Seeing everything in slo-mo isn’t so bad.”

“I understand you have a friendly rivalry with a former teammate?”

“Yes, Agent Intrepid. She’s with the Commission now but we used to debate on whether her flight speed was faster than my running speed. Between you and I, I think that was just her way of trying to bring out the best in me. She was sneaky like that. I tried to get Agent Warp to test her teleporting against my speed but she wasn’t interested.”

“Do you pride yourself on being the fastest?”

“I do.”

“Could you explain why?”

“To be your best, you sorta have to find new challenges, I think. Keeps you disciplined. Now, most military guys are disciplined but not all of them can perceive bullets as they fly through the air. It’s another step. Creates different challenges.”

“I see. If I can switch gears a little, I wanna talk about your latest mission.”

“That was definitely… unique.”

“Did it remind you of a time before you had powers?”

“I see where you’re going with this,” he said dryly.

“At any time you don’t want to talk about something…”

“No, it’s fine,” he waved her off, “So, there was one… situation I was in years ago, in Switzerland. There was this white supremacist group targeting refuges in Geneva and my team was tasked with finding them. We received intel they were gonna set a bomb at a refugee center in the city and I led a small task force to the center that we were told would be the bomb site. At the last minute, we discovered the group planned to attack a different center halfway across the city. It was bad intel. I got out of there as quickly as I could and tried to get to the bomb site but…,” his face fell as he spoke, “… The bomb went off about a minute before we got there. Several were injured and a family died.”

“Do you feel you could’ve done something differently?”

“Bad intel is bad intel. In this line of work, you almost expect it. But in this situation, I know that, if I had the power I do now, I could’ve made the trip on foot before those bastards ever had the chance but unfortunately…,” a single tear fell down his face, “… I wasn’t fast enough.”

****

The IMD vessel continued on its way while the speed boat remained parallel and the gunman scrambled to reload his rifle. On the deck, Alam was tending to Bronson’s wounds as the team took cover to avoid the next attack.

“Don’t worry, brother,” Alam set the first-aid kit next to Bronson, “I’ll have you patched up soon.”

“What the hell happened?,” Bronson muttered as blood continued to pour out.

Klausman knelt down next to him, “I’m sorry, Bronson,” he held his hand apologetically, “I wasn’t fast enough.”

The gunman opened fire again. Several bullets bounced off the boat’s armored hull or sailed overhead while the team drew their sidearms. Klausman was fuming with anger and was the first to get a clear shot; the gunman’s dead body soon fell in the water while releasing another spurt of bullets into the air. Next, Klausman fired a shot through the driver’s window, leaving a bloody, spider web-shaped crack. Now unmanned, the boat swerved toward jagged rocks reaching out from below the waves. When it hit, it flipped into the air and splashed down somewhere on the other side. Adrian angrily trained his gun in different directions, hoping to find more patrol boats but none materialized

“Klausman!,” Jones shouted worriedly, “You good, mate?”

“I needed to act fast,” he told her sternly as they continued on their way back to the Cloudburst.

As the Badges turned their boat around, they were spotted by a man with binoculars stationed in the castle in the distance. Minutes later, a guard rushed to the castle’s study to inform their employer.

Billy Bacchus reclined in his chair in an opiate-induced stupor. The room was dark save for some candle light and when the guard entered the room, he didn’t notice. “Sir?,” the guard approached the chair as Bacchus stirred, “Someone tried to infiltrate the island. Boat Patrol reported an unidentified vessel and we lost contact with them soon after that. We’re certain the intruders killed them.”

Bacchus raised up, his long, stringy hair covering half his face, “Did they make it ashore?”

“One of our guys saw a vessel fleeing the area. Our team is combing the shores now and we suggest you retire to the panic room.”

Bacchus smiled and brushed his hair out of his eyes, “That won’t be necessary. I think our friends realized they weren’t as strong as they thought and made their escape,” he leaned back in his chair and took the cigarette from the ashtray beside him, “Oh, I’m such a bad bitch.” He took a drag.

Continued…