Vulnerable part 4

The wound couldn’t be fully stitched up. Even though Alam removed the bullet and began tending to the injury, as the boat got farther away from the island, he found it more and more difficult to stitch the flesh around the wound. Eventually, the needle bent against Bronson’s shoulder and was no longer useful.

“The good news,” Alam began, “Is that I think our powers are coming back.”

Bronson looked at the stitches along his shoulder that partially covered the wound, “The bad news is that you can’t finish the job?”

Alam applied a bandage, “At least it’s clean and covered. We have laser tools back at HQ to assist you in case of an emergency but…”

“We didn’t have anything on the boat because we didn’t account for this shite.”

“Basically.”

Bronson shook his head, “I can take a few bashes from a U’ntari super soldier with no problem, but a spoiled-prat arms dealer takes me out? Bloody hell.”

Jones entered the lower deck, “We’re docking with the Cloudburst guys, so get ready,” she took a look at Bronson’s bandage, “How’s the shoulder?”

“Hurts but I’ll make it,” he answered.

“At least our powers returned,” Alam telekinetically hefted the first aid kit into the air, “For what good that does us for the moment.”

“You boys are such downers,” Jones crossed her arms and leaned against the wall with a comforting smile, “We’ve an idea of what we’re dealing with now, so have a little faith.”

Alam didn’t return the smile, “I’m afraid I lost that some time ago.”

****

IMD SESSION: Shift (Alam)

Alam quietly entered the small room and closed the door behind him before seating himself in front of Dr. Ansari.

“Hello, Shift,” Dr. Ansari greeted him, “Is it okay if we use your codename?”

“Fine by me,” Alam propped his elbows on the armrests of the chair, “So… Dr. Ansari… That’s an Islamic name.”

“It is. I’m from New York but my family’s from Pakistan.”

“Oh? Which part?”

“My dad’s from Lala and my mom’s from a small town near Islamabad.”

“I was born near Umerkot. Ever visit?”

“Sometimes. My Urdu isn’t great if you’re thinking of using it for this session,” she joked.

“English is fine,” he told her politely, “So do you still practice?”

“Islam?,” she shook her head, “I’m mainly cultural at this point, honestly. I’ll fast for Ramadan and sometimes go to Mosque when I visit my parents but… it’s not for me. You seem interested in religion.”

“I was raised Sunni. My parents and sister are quite devout and I was too for a time,” he leaned back.

“But not now?”

“Not so much anymore, no.”

“What changed?”

“I have an uncle who converted to Hinduism when I was very young. As I said, I was born near Umerkot and, you may or may not know this, but that’s where a lot of Hindus live. My uncle and my father never discussed religion openly but my sister and I always knew there was an issue there.”

“Was there a conflict?”

“Oh, yeah. Big time,” he took a breath, “I wasn’t there that night but I know that somehow, my uncle and father got into an argument about special privileges Muslims had over Hindus. My uncle couldn’t get the work he wanted and said it was due to discrimination and, of course, my father took umbrage to that. It resulted in a fistfight and my uncle went down some stairs,” a distant look emerged in Alam’s eyes, “I’m sure it was an accident. My father loved my uncle and it tore him up for years but the fallout never sat well with me. My father should’ve gotten a manslaughter charge from the police and I think he would have if my uncle was still a Muslim.”

“Did you confront him about it?”

“I tried,” he sighed, “If I wasn’t shut down completely, there were always excuses, not just from him but also my mother, sister… everyone in my family. I lost faith, not just in Islam but in my family.”

“Do you feel the issue was ever resolved in any meaningful way?”

“Not really. I just… haven’t spoken to them much over the years.”

“And you joined the military at some point.”

“Eventually, yes. I’m still not sure why. Maybe because… I guess I had nowhere else to go. I needed some sort of structure in my life or something to believe in. I excelled in the military because of that drive, I think, and that led me to the Special Services Group where I did the usual classified counter-terrorism stuff. After that, I was recruited into the IMD,” he slapped his knees, “Now here I am.”

Dr. Ansari glanced at her notes, “You never chose your powers, correct? You took what Director Pierce offered you?”

“Yes,… I guess I had faith in his judgment. I have to find it when I can.”

****

Pierce leaned against the Debriefing Room table, the team seated quietly in contemplation, “So they know how to knock out your powers, at least temporarily.”

“My theory is that the effects are localized,” Alam explained, “Maybe there’s some sort of field surrounding the island that removes our abilities. Once we left the area, it was like a light came on.”

“In any case, we must be cautious,” Pierce crossed his arms in front of his chest, “We also need to infiltrate that island. What did we learn from that forum Billy Bacchus runs?”

“He’s planning an auction, sir,” Frakes explained, “Bacchus’ll be selling off suits of armor to the highest bidder. We can pose as potential buyers and get onto the island that way.”

“He likely knows who is or isn’t meant to be there. It would be hard to take anyone’s place without proper information. What do we have to go on?”

“On the forums, one set of buyers claimed they had trouble traveling through Europe. They posted in English with an unknown IP address but Bacchus made one mistake.”

“Which was?”

“He mentioned something about ‘trouble out East’ which would make matters difficult in regard to travel. As you recall, sir, Bacchus inherited a shipping company from his father. He said they could travel in one of his cargo ships and mentioned a port they could meet at. We know the time and place.”

“The port’s located in Turkey,” Bronson announced, “We can head them off easily enough, whoever they are. We take them out, get onboard the ship, and hopefully Bacchus doesn’t know what these guys look like or how many he’ll be meeting.”

“If it looks like it may go tits up, you’ll abort mission?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Everyone be sure to stretch your sea-legs,” Pierce told them, “And certainly, you’ll need weapons if you go to that remote island without powers.”

“There’s a good chance they’ll confiscate any guns before we get there,” Alam noted.

“Which brings me to my next point,” Pierce motioned toward the door as Soyeon Kim entered, “Ah, thank you for joining us, Soyeon.”

“You’re welcome, Director,” she bowed her head slightly.

“As you’re all aware, Soyeon has spent over a year perfecting her Hammer-Space technology and she seems to have made quite the breakthrough recently. Soyeon, you have the floor.”

She happily produced a gold bracelet, “I finally got this to work. Hammer-Space spreads the molecules of an object across a small surface, almost like sending it to a pocket dimension, until it’s needed. In this case, I have something hidden in this bracelet,” she slid the bracelet onto her wrist, “So let’s say you have a gun or something you need to hide,” she tapped the bracelet and with a flash of light, a gun appeared in the palm of her hand, “You can use this tech to smuggle whatever you need as long as it’s small enough.” She tapped the bracelet again and the gun seemingly vanished with another flash, “And the object can go right back when you need it to.”

“Ah, well done on getting it up and runn’n,” Jones congratulated her.

“Thanks.”

“It’s worth nearly getting killed by U’ntari soldiers over it,” Frakes gave Soyeon a knowing look which annoyed her as she was reminded of the attack on their Lyon headquarters and her initial refusal to evacuate in order to continue her experiment.

“Can I have a look?,” Bronson asked before Soyeon slipped the bracelet off and handed it to him. He held the bracelet in one hand and curiously turned it over, “I can still feel the gun’s weight.”

“The mass is still there,” Soyeon explained, “It’s just not tangible. You won’t have to worry about any sort of detection but you’re still limited to how much you can carry.”

“Brilliant work, Kim,” Bronson tapped the bracelet to summon the gun once more.

“Alright, Badges,” Pierce clapped his hands, “We have a location and a way to sneak weapons inside. Take out the armor supply at the auction, capture Bacchus, and find out how he knocked out your powers. Any questions?”

Days later, a group of men stood waiting at a remote shipping dock in Turkey. A large bald man in a leather jacket spoke Russian into a burner phone, “Yeah, we made it without a problem… The Greek’s ship should be here soon, so… Don’t worry, Ivan, if he gets too disrespectful, we’ll teach him some manners.” As he spoke, five more figures approached the men from behind.

Frakes phased a hand into a rifle one Russian was holding and removed a magazine before delivering a blow to his neck. Jones teleported two men across the dock where they fell against some machinery. Bronson brought his fist down at the base of a man’s skull and Alam telekinetically threw two more Russians against a crane. When the bald man turned, he noticed the Badges standing where his men once were; when he pulled his gun, Klausman removed it from his grip and rendered him unconscious in a second.

“So we know they’re Russian and answer to someone named Ivan,” Bronson said as he examined the unconscious men. Frakes took a look at the bald man and noticed the tattoo on the back of his hand, “МИР,” she read aloud, “Russian mafia” (the tattoo in question was common among Russian criminals as an indication they would never be rehabilitated). Once they realized their roles, they tied the men up in a shipping container and alerted local authorities. Next, they put on some of the jackets and clothing to play their roles a bit better and took their weapons. By the time Bacchus’ ship arrived, all traces of the operation had been removed.

Once the ship docked, the leader of the group approached them, “Waiting for someone?”

On a hunch, Frakes answered in English while affecting a Russian accent, “We’re waiting for the Greeks. Cut the bullshit!”

The leader seemed satisfied with the answer and seemed to do a headcount before speaking , “Weren’t there supposed to be more of you?”

“Change of plans.”

His eyes fell on Alam and Jones, “Neither one of you look Russian.”

On cue, Alam and Jones began chattering in Russian to one another while appearing offended. Bronson grumbled in his own thick accent, “19% of Russia population, ya? Do we take census? We talk to Ivan now if…”

“No, forget it,” the leader snapped and then motioned to his men, “Please give them your weapons before boarding and you’ll have them returned once you leave the island.”

“We’d better,” Bronson said antagonistically as he a removed a pistol from his jacket and handed it over.

The rest of the Badges followed suit and handed over the Russian weapons that they had confiscated earlier. The Greeks seemed to notice they were all wearing golden bracelets but didn’t draw attention to it and soon, everyone was onboard the ship. The 14 hour ride in a cargo hold wasn’t comfortable but they made due. If they spoke, it was in Russian and coded in case of listening devices. Early the next morning, they arrived at the island’s port with Bacchus’ mansion looming overhead. As they walked onto the dock, they noticed the thin man with long hair and dark sunglasses from their files and they were relieved to see that he didn’t know the faces of the people he was meant to be greeting.

“Welcome to my island boys and girls. I am your humble host, Billy Bacchus,” he spread his arms out toward the small island cheerfully, “Take advantage of my beautiful island. It could be Heaven or Hell, depending on your pleasure or poison. It’s essentially Amsterdam if Amsterdam wasn’t so damn boring. If you can’t find it here, you probably never wanted it to begin with. Your employer didn’t have a good time but hopefully, you’re a bit more fun and I certainly don’t want to entertain certain Russian stereotypes,” he placed his hands casually in his pockets, “So… I assume you all have names?”

The Badges rattled off Russian names for themselves. Not wanting to push their luck, Frakes told Bacchus, “The ship was uncomfortable and we need showers. You can take us to our quarters now.”

“Where are my manners?,” Bacchus dramatically motioned toward his home, “I’ll show you to your rooms.”

The island was very small with mostly rock and some foliage surrounding the massive castle. Billy led them into the pier entrance and they passed through a pool house, “The auction begins tomorrow but do take advantage of the complementaries,” he gesticulated theatrically as he led them up the steps to the guest quarters, “We have all manner of drink, smoke and pills, a casino in the East Wing and a dungeon in the West Wing where we have just about everything available, so be my guest to fuck whatever you like…,” he spun around to look them in the eyes, “Just don’t try to fuck me over.” After threatening them to his satisfaction, he turned and opened the double doors leading to a suite, “Make yourself at home. Most guests have already arrived and I encourage you to mingle. Who said you can’t mix business and pleasure, huh?”

“Thank you,” Frakes sat down on the couch and the rest of the team began to mill about the suite.

“Do you need me to show you around your quarters?,” Bacchus leaned against the wall.

“Leave!,” Bronson barked.

Bacchus grimaced and mumbled in Greek, “So much for mingling,” then took his leave.

“Auction’s tomorrow,” Frakes told the team, still cautiously speaking Russian, “We need to see the merchandise before we make a decision on the buy,” she told them, indicating that they would not act until they had confirmation of the powersuits.

“I’m gonna take a look around the mansion before the auction,” Klausman volunteered, “See if I can find any… entertainment.”

“Good idea,” Frakes responded, “In the meantime, let’s get some rest. We got a busy day tomorrow.”

Continued…