Vulnerable part 6

Billy Bacchus sat on the stage next to damaged suits of armor as his men secured the area. The seats where his guests once sat were now pushed back or toppled over due to the quick exodus that had occurred moments before. “Why did they have guns?,” Bacchus whined to the men removing corpses from the room, “They weren’t supposed to have guns! You were supposed to take everyone’s guns before they came inside so why did the complete opposite thing happen?”

“They were checked for weapons in Turkey, sir,” one of his men informed him, “They had some sort of technology that allowed them to bring weapons onto the island undetected.”

“But why don’t I have that!,” Bacchus angrily slapped his palms on the floor as he punctuated every word and as soon as the tantrum started, it ended. He closed his eyes and raised his hands before taking a deep breath, then he rose to his feet. He calmly placed his hands on the highest ranking security guard in the room, looked him in the eyes and quietly said, “I want them dead. And not just shot and killed. I want their dicks cut off and served to me for breakfast. I’m not even being hyperbolic right now,” he sincerely placed his forehead against his lieutenant’s forehead, “Could you-could you do that for me? Because I’m currently mad enough that I’m willing to eat the severed dicks of my enemies. I need you to know, I’m committed to going full-Game of Thrones with this one.”

Minutes earlier, Billy Bacchus stood behind his desk and gave the order to execute the Badges in the center of the room. As his men raised their pistols, he noticed strange flares from the golden bracelets the IMD agents wore. Guns were instantly in the palms of their hands and they opened fire, instantly killing his men as smoke filled the room. “No, no, no!,” he shouted as he dove under the desk. His shouts of defiance were borne from frustration more than fear but could scarcely he heard over the gunshots. The Badges were powerless, it was true, but before leaving their headquarters, they were given Hammer-Space technology from Soyeon Kim, which Billy Bacchus could not have accounted for.

The Badges had no time to capture Bacchus and opted to retreat with Frakes and Klausman taking out the two guards who burst into the room next. The rest of the team used their bracelets to steal the discarded guns from the dead henchmen, shoving the weapons into Hammer-Space for future use. When they exited the office and made their way back to the auction, there was already pandemonium. Some guests were trying to flee while others were rushing to discern what was happening. The guards were scrambling to get the situation under control while also investigating which made it easier for the Badges to take the stage where a series of armored suits remained. Bronson took a grenade from Hammer-Space and plunged it into one of the helmets. One brave guest attempted to rush them but Jones pistol-whipped him and the team quickly cut a path to the dining area, kicking and punching any guests who tried to capture them. The explosion behind them tore the armors apart and caused enough of a distraction that they were able to enter the dining hall and lock the doors behind them.

They knew the locked doors wouldn’t hold for long and continued into the kitchen area where the cooking staff had been hiding. As they weren’t combatants, they kept their distance while the Badges rushed to the backdoor. “Anyone need a blade?,” Alam asked as he removed a butcher knife from a cutting board. “Might as well,” Bronson took a nearby carving knife. Meanwhile, Jones held the backdoor open for the team and they rushed outside to the moss-covered rocks behind the mansion. Since she was the last to leave, Bacchus’ men managed to enter the kitchen and fire a few shots in her direction. As she escaped through the door, a bullet found its way into her shoulder-blade.

She grunted loudly as she fell to the ground. “Gopfertori!,” Klausman roared before poking through the doorway and returning fire, shooting the two men as they advanced. “Keep moving,” Frakes ordered as she and Bronson helped Jones to her feet. They moved as quickly as possible to a rocky hill nearby in hopes they wouldn’t be found. The wound wasn’t fatal but it was painful and every step sent needles through Jones’ back.

****

IMD Session: Warp (Jones)

Jones sat happily in the chair facing Dr. Ansari.“What do ya need to know?,” she asked helpfully.

Refreshed to see an IMD agent being fully cooperative, Dr. Ansari smiled, “Why don’t you tell me as much as you can about becoming a Badge?”

“I’m from Perth for starters. Dad’s a military engineer and mum’s a real estate agent. I dunno if you can tell but I’m mixed. White dad. Aboriginal mum.”

“And you once belonged to the Australian Special Air Service? Do I have that right?”

“Struth.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I never felt like I belonged at school,” she stated sadly, “I was mixed so I was too light for the black kids and too dark for the white kids. I had to put up with a lot of shite from all sides. Dad was doing military work already so I had an interest. When I left school, I enlisted and eventually got into special forces. Had no where else to go, I suppose.”

“Seems to be a common theme among the Badges.”

“No surprises there.”

“When you were recruited into IMD, you chose teleportation as a power, correct?”

“Yeah. Always sorta dreamed of it as a little girl: the ability to just… get away. Escape. Get away from all the taunts and bullying. I suppose that’s really what getting into the military was all about for me, but you sorta touched on that already.”

“Does it ever get scary? Going on missions, I mean.”

“Absolutely. Whether it’s with the SAS or the IMD, when you feel a bullet whiz by, it’s not a pleasant feeling. Other people in this field like to act tough but between you and me, they’re scared because you’d be crazy not to be. No matter how good you are, there’s always that fear you might not make it.”

“You said you sometimes want to escape from bad situations. Ever feel that way in battle?”

“Of course.”

****

Jones bit down on a piece of fabric cut from a Russian jacket. Alam had stored a small medical kit in his bracelet’s Hammer-Space and was in the process of removing the bullet and sewing up the bloody wound. They were now nestled behind a tall rock with a steep cliff and crashing waves below them while the castle ominously loomed above. The rest of the team stood watch in case their enemies found them, which they knew was an inevitability if they didn’t move fast. As Alam finished up, they could hear Billy Bacchus over the island’s loud speaker, “Excuse me, beautiful people. This is Billy Bacchus. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now we have some interlopers in our midst. Yes, they are the authorities, Interpol to be exact. Now, I won’t take it personally if you want to leave my quaint little island but I will give you some incentive to help me deal with them. There will be a million euros for any clients who kill an Interpol agent. There are five of them and they are limited when it comes to hiding places and weapons so it shouldn’t be difficult. As for my employees, it’s time to earn your paychecks. Find the agents and kill them. Also, please remember… make it hurt.”

Alam looked up at the tower rising above the annex; it was on the opposite side of the mansion, seemingly a mile away. That was their destination and with everyone on the island gunning for them, he wasn’t sure of the odds. “I guess we made the ‘Greek god’ angry,” he said aloud, “I’m not certain how we’ll make it from here to the tower.” “I should’ve been at the door sooner,” Klausman muttered to himself as he watched Jones rub her injured shoulder. She was quiet, her usual optimism now gone. Morale was low and Frakes noticed it, but despite her own frustrations concerning the direction of the mission, she knew she had to get their confidence back.

“That’s enough,” she barked, “We’re taking that tower, we’re destroying the weapons, and we’re regaining our powers. Even without our abilities, we’re the top in our fields and we’ve been through worse. The first thing that’s gonna happen is Bronson and Alam will create a diversion by going to the docks and make it look as though we’re trying to escape the island. Once Bacchus diverts his forces to that area, the rest of us will sneak into the tower and take out the guards there.”

“I can go to the docks alone,” Bronson told her, “I’ll take whatever comes so the rest of you can complete the mission.”

“That’s suicide,” Frakes told him, “You’re bringing Alam with you.”

“Bacchus mentioned he hired a mercenary who recognized us,” Jones said quietly, “I think we all have the same hunch as to who it might be and if we’re right, even if we regain our powers, I’m not sure if we can…”

“We’ll worry about that if and when it happens,” Frakes peeked around the tall rock concealing them, “They’ll be here any minute so we have to act fast. Are you ready?”

“We’re ready,” Klausman told her as he prepared to move.

“Let’s make this rich asshole regret his whole life.”

In the mansion, Billy Bacchus spoke to a shadowy figure in his quarters. “I’m not sure I need you just yet,” he told the figure, “My men and several of my guests are hunting the Badges as we speak.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned about the Badges,” the shadowy figure explained, “It’s that they’re always full of surprises, powers or no.”

“Let’s say they managed to get their powers back. Do you feel you could take them out,” he snapped his fingers, “Just like that?”

“Hell yeah, I could.”

“Then we can wait for the right time. You get paid either way.”

A voice came from a walkie-talkie on Bacchus’ end table. “Sir, one of our clients noticed agents heading toward the docks. He’s getting his men and a few other guests to go after them.”

Bacchus smiled at the shadowy figure across the room, “See? Easy-peasy lemon-squeezy.” He snatched the radio from the table next to him, “I want everyone available to head to the docks. Give our guests a few complementary rifles while you’re at it. Let me know how it goes.”

Alam and Bronson swam under a pier while holding the kitchen knives in their mouths. Once they emerged, they could see two shadows passing between the wooden planks above, indicating two gunmen stationed there. Bronson swam to one side and waited by a post, close to one of the guards. Alam made his way to the opposite side where he saw one man standing with his back to him. He was close enough to the edge that Alam could reach up with his knife and slice through his achilles-tendon, which he did. The man screamed in pain and fell into the water, gaining the attention of his partner who rushed to the other side to investigate. As he did, Bronson was able to climb onto the pier, sneak up behind the man, and then cut his throat before he could do much more. He and Alam were soon seen running down the length of the pier to the boat-house nearby. Two groups of men closed in on the area from either side and opened fire as they sprinted inside. Once they were in the building, they locked the door and made their way to a storage bay connected to the boat house where they squatted behind a stack of shipping crates.

“How many did you count?,” Bronson asked.

“I’d say about twelve, give or take a few,” Alam answered, “This place is cramped and small, so their numbers and weapons won’t mean as much and since they only saw the two of us, I hope they have enough arrogance to come at us in close quarters.”

“I’m sure they will,” Bronson assured him, “Have some faith.”

Meanwhile, the rest of the team passed under the bridge to the annex where the tower was much closer. They made sure to stay away from the windows and found the servant quarters at ground level. “A guy like that won’t care as much about guarding the help,” Jones surmised and, sure enough, when they burst through the door, they found an empty hall. The maids and butlers were in their apartments packing their bags and when they saw the Badges, they quickly shut and locked their doors. “And I doubt they’d care enough to rat us out to their boss,” she explained further. They moved on to a set of stairs leading to the tower.

At the docks, men with guns quietly crept along tall stacks of crates with their guns drawn. “We do this together,” Alam whispered to Bronson, “You’re not invulnerable so there’s no need to play cowboy.” “We’ll leave that to the Americans,” he whispered back, “Ready?” Alam nodded and they both came around either side of the crates with their knives ready.

Their enemies had no room to fire their guns, at least not without potentially hitting allies. Bronson and Alam worked quickly and as quietly as possible, slipping in and out of the small crowd just as easily as their blades slipped in and out of their targets. Their advancements were precise and deliberate. No ounce of energy was wasted nor were any movements superfluous. It would have been a beautiful ballet if it weren’t for the crimson aftermath. Some of their enemies tried melee attacks with a few producing blades of their own but they couldn’t compete with the deadly onslaught of the two Badges. When no one else was left standing, Alam and Bronson stood amidst the bodies, surveying their handiwork. It was wet and ugly but they had little choice.

Soon, they heard Bacchus’ voice from a discarded radio in a dead man’s pocket. “Did you find your targets?,” Bacchus asked, “Anyone there? Someone tell me what’s going on.”

“We can fill you in,” Bronson spoke into the radio, “What do you need to know?”

“Ah,… You managed to stay alive,” Bacchus’ voice barely concealed his anger, “Enjoy it while it lasts. It’s clever that you found a way on this island but you know you’re still outnumbered, right? I have more men coming for you and one more little surprise left while you people have no powers and no where to run,” the anger gradually ceased to be concealed, “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the audacity you had in coming here! At this point, the best you can hope for is a bullet to the head because I am going to introduce you to entirely new definitions of pain! Did you honestly think you could come to my church, take a shit on the altar, and not face the wrath of God?”

“I think you might be the one underestimating the situation,” Alam took the radio, “You currently have an entire team of special forces on your island standing against you… Sorry, that doesn’t do it justice… You have a team that, even without powers, consists of some of the deadliest and most efficient operatives in the world. The IMD doesn’t just take anyone. It’s only the best of the best. We’re here because we know we can handle it. Because we’ve taken down men far worse than you. Because we always manage to save the day. You’re upset about what we did to your church?… You need to be more concerned about what we’ll do to the priest.”

Continued…