The Light Warrior Files
Chapter 2, Part 9: The Exploding Man
By Chris Ward
The nightmares were not as easily disposed as the doubts. Although neither as frequent
nor as severe, they still came. Once again, I found myself waking to comfort and reassure
her several times. Waking for the day, I found Marita sprawled on her stomach. Her head
was pillowed on my shoulder, with an arm crossing my chest and both legs entwined with
mine. Rolling my head to stretch my neck, I glimpsed the alarm clock. Swearing under my
breath, I gently shook her awake.
Eyes half-open, she mumbled something in Spanish. Brushing the hair away from her
cheek, I apologized for waking her. “Sorry, mi amante, but it looks to be past time for
waking up.”
Levering her head onto my chest so she could see the alarm, she breathed, “¡Cristo! Why
didn’t you set the alarm?”
Coughing lightly, I smiled. “It sort of slipped my mind. I was a little distracted when we went
to bed.”
I could tell she was blushing furiously from the playful way she slapped my chest. Resting
her head back on my shoulder and curling against my side, she played with a little of my
chest hair. “Still. I mean, I could see sleeping to maybe 1, but 3?”
Running my fingers lightly up her spine, I shrugged. “We were tired. You spent most of
yesterday in various stages of worry and fear.” I was determined not to admit that she wasn’
t the only one. “After the good news, we got quite a workout before sneaking back in after
1 in the morning.”
Rolling her eyes, she untangled herself and rolled out of bed. Stopping at the bathroom
door, she threw an arch look over her shoulder. “Well, are you coming?”
Smothering a laugh, I rolled out of bed and followed her in. “Yes, dear.”
Afterward, I dressed in jeans and polo, straightening up while Marita slid into jeans and a
plain blouse. After helping me make the bed, I sat on the edge of it and watched while she
tied back her hair and applied a little makeup.
The Dark Lady was alone in the room when we entered. Looking up from her book, she
flashed a smile. “I was beginning to wonder if you two planned on coming out at all today.”
Playfully slapping the back of my head, Marita said, “You can thank Einstein for that.”
Skipping out of range before I could swat her butt, she laughed. “Something appears to
have distracted him last night, and he forgot to set the alarm.”
Throwing her an arch look, the Lady said, “I wonder what could have possibly distracted
him that much.” When Marita started blushing, the Lady laughed. “There should still be
some coffee left. I sent Ishmael and Builder down to do our laundry and pick up something
for dinner tonight.”
Marita looked at me as she sat. “Would you mind just bringing me a cup of tea?”
“No problem. You may want to call your office and give them some sort of excuse for where
you’ve been.” By the time I had made her tea, and had fixed myself a strong cup of Irish
coffee, she had completed the call and was draped across the chair half asleep. When I
handed her the tea, she shifted long enough for me to sit down.
Reclining back in the chair, I draped an arm around her where she lay against my chest.
After maybe half an hour, I almost dropped my cup when I remembered what I had left
undone when she went missing. Looking at me with alarm, Marita said, “What’s up? You
look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Explaining what had happened, I headed back to my work computer, Marita laughing as she
followed, and powered it up. Forty minutes later I had found the supplier they needed.
Contacting both parties, I arranged the deal. After disconnecting from the supplier, I
apologized profusely to my client. Explaining that my fiancée had been seriously injured in
a car wreck, I waved my regular fee and offered my services, one time only, for half price if
they needed another deal arranged.
“That’s what you do back here?”
I had almost forgotten that she was here with me. Shutting down the computer and getting
up, I grunted, “Pretty much.”
Back in the living room, Builder and Ishmael had returned while I was working, and the Lady
was fixing dinner. The rest of the evening was mostly uneventful. After dinner, we cleaned
up and talked in the living room. At first the discussion was mostly random ad bounced
from the weather to sports and politics.
I was finally able to steer the conversation in the direction I was most interested in, and we
started discussing the Organization. Looking down where Marita was relaxing in my arms,
absently playing with my ring, I cleared my throat. When she glanced up, I said, “Hon, I really
hate to bring up bad memories, but, when I found you, you said Dan told you he was going
somewhere. Can you remember where he said he was going?”
Her eyes grew distant for a minute as she searched her memory. Finally she nodded. “I don’
t know where, exactly, but he told me something about having been recalled to
headquarters. Why?”
“Because I think we may know where he is.” Gently nudging her to let me up, I went to the
nearby computer. Opening the drawer, I pulled out the phone and card. Pulling up a
browser on the computer, I searched through the phone for the listing I remembered.
Finding the number for Headquarters, typed it into a reverse phone number search on the
internet. Comparing the address that it coughed up with the card, I was relieved to find
them identical. Turning off the phone and putting both it and the card back in the drawer, I
pulled up a map and input the address.
When the map popped up the location, I couldn’t contain a grin. “All right. We know where
he is. What we don’t know is how to get to him.”
Marita had followed me over. “What do you mean?”
Getting up from the computer, leaving the map up, we went back to the chair and seated
ourselves. “It’s actually fairly simple. You told us that he mentioned something about
Headquarters. One of the numbers in his phone was under that heading. Keying that
number into a search gave me an address. Comparing that address to the one on the card
was the final verification. Keying it into the map search, I discovered it to be in the main
building at Kirby Plaza.”
The Lady kept an eye on me from her reclined position beside her husband. “What did you
have in mind?”
Shrugging, I answered with almost complete honesty. “I thought we’d go in, kill Danny boy
and, shall we say, explain the realities to his bosses.”
Quirking an eyebrow at me, Ishmael asked, “Explain?”
Shrugging, I threw him a half grin and shifted position. The Lady glanced at her watch and
commented, “Whatever it is we decide, I think it should be decided tomorrow. It’s nearly
midnight.”
Finishing our drinks, Marita and I went to the bedroom. Getting ready for bed, I wrapped my
arms around her waist and whispered in her era, “Are you tired yet?”
“Not really. Why?”
Loosening my grip, I let my hands start exploring. “I’ll scrub your back if you’ll do mine.”
After the shower, I set the alarm and joined her in bed, where we learned that neither of us
were quite finished. After we finally went to sleep, it was a repeat of the previous nights.
Although the nightmares continued to decrease in frequency and intensity, they still came.
Waking up to the alarm, around 9, we went through the typical morning routine, making it
into the living room around 10. With her sitting at the island, drinking coffee and talking
about nothing, I fixed us a quick breakfast. After eating and cleaning up, we went to the
living room and joined the other three.
After relaxing into the chair, I looked around. “Whatever else we decide to do today, I want
out of this apartment.”
Shifting position next to his wife, Ishmael said, “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said. With a couple exceptions, we’ve been stuck in this place for better
than a week, longer than that even since the group of us just had a bit of fun.”
The Lady lifted an eyebrow in skepticism at the idea. ‘Has it slipped your mind that Daniel is
still out there, or that our world may be coming to an end in the next few days?”
Looking at her in curiosity, I asked, “Have you seen something then?”
Shrugging uncomfortably, she admitted, “Not precisely. I’ve seen that it will boil down to a
single decision made by the Brother of Flight. The question before him is of love; does he
love power more than he loves his own flesh and blood, the Brother of Power?”
“So our part at the end will still be mostly peripheral?”
“So it would seem. What are you getting at?”
Shrugging, I explained. “I figured we could discuss how best to get to Dan while we were
out, but we could have fun too. Go shopping, go to a decent restaurant for dinner, and
maybe catch a movie or show. Frankly, I think we’ve been closed up long enough.
Less than an hour later, shortly after noon, we were seated at a small deli down the street.
Sketching in our rough plans for getting into the Kirby Plaza building, we finished our
lunch. The rest of the day was spent interspersing business with pleasure. Through the
hours spent shopping, as well as window shopping, we made and reviewed the plans. After
dinner at a new Italian spot, we went to see an off-Broadway production of Cats.
As we were leaving the theatre, I turned on my phone. It started ringing before I could
replace it in my suit coat. Glancing at the screen, I saw that my caller was blocking both his
name and his number. Flipping it open, I said, “Hello?”
A dry, cynical voice which I had cause to remember came over the line. “Mr. Kemp?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s not fool around. You know who and what I am, and I have the same information about
you. Since you turned on my phone yesterday, I assume you know where I am, which means
that little c*** whore…”
Interrupting in strangled fury, I said, “Listen, you filthy sack of s***, there’s nothing I look
forward to with as much pleasure as ridding you of your worthless life. Right now I just want
to kill you and move on with my life. Don’t make me change my mind.”
“Get off it. Christ, man, I’ve seen the video. She was practically begging for it. S***, she
started slinging it as soon as he mounted her. The little slut couldn’t wait to be taken like
an animal by a real man.”
“Keep pushing, bastard, just keep pushing. What the f*** do you want?”
Laughing, he explained. “Fine. The point of this little contact is that, thanks to her blabbing
mouth, my phone and, doubtless, the ever helpful internet, you know where I’m at.”
“And if I do?”
“Be here tomorrow, 5 pm sharp. Flash the card you and your little b**** took from me to the
guy guarding the doors. Tell him that Thompson wants to talk to you. Take the skeleton key
along. I know you used it on your little murder raid at the safe house- which, by the way,
didn’t impress my bosses- so I know that you know how to use it. What isn’t obvious is that
its primary use is as an elevator key. Once in the elevator, turn the key and you’ll be taken
directly to my floor, uninterrupted. A small group of my friends and fellow agents will be
waiting for you.
“If you do this, you have my word that the Organization will leave sweet little Marita alone.
If, however, you screw us over, I will make it my sacred task to capture you, but only after
you’ve been forced to watch everyone even tangentially associated with you die as
horrible a death as I can manufacture.”
“You’ll forgive me if I suggest that I find your word to be of less value than used toilet
paper, and the idea that you even recognize honor completely laughable. However, that
being said, you don’t seem to have left me much choice.”
“Glad you see it that way. Tomorrow, 5 sharp.” After he disconnected, I stood there staring
at the phone for several minutes. Finally replacing it in my suit coat, I looked into the
distance in cold fury, hands clenched in my pockets.
Marita came up to me, linking her arm through mine, and said, “Who was it, baby?”
Placing the opposite hand on her arm, I explained the phone call to them as we walked
back to the apartment. When I finished, we were silent during the remainder of the walk.
After I let us in, we sat in our regular seats.
From the sofa, Ishmael asked, “So, what do you plan to do?”
“Honestly? I don’t have a clue.”
Marita looked up from where she was reclining on my chest. “You’re not surrendering, are
you?”
Shrugging uncomfortably, I said, “If I thought he could be trusted, I might consider it.”
Running a finger down her throat, I traced on of the last of her fading bruises. “But, he’s
already proven himself to have no honor. Coming after me is one thing. It’s business,
something I can understand. Coming after someone I love, torturing and violating them for
amusement, simply to get to me through them though? No. I can’t understand that, I won’t
forgive it and will most certainly exact some sort of revenge for it.
“Anyway, assuming he honored his word and left you alone, that still leaves the Lady,
Builder and Ishmael.” Looking at them, I smiled a little. “The Organization definitely is going
to want to grab you three.”
The Lady looked closely at me. “You are probably correct. The question now becomes what
you intend to do. What you’ve just said indicates that you’ve decided to stay away from him,
but I sense that isn’t quite right.”
“Honestly? I haven’t decided. Trying to stay away from him, to avoid him, would just cause
more problems. I don’t have a clue about what to do.”
Marita looked at the clock and stood from the chair. Reaching down a hand, she pulled me
to my feet. “Since it’s a little past midnight now, I think the final order of business for the
night should be to go to bed.” Pushing me toward the bedroom, she looked back at the
Lady. “We’ll see you three around noon.”
After getting into bed, Marita took my hand under the covers. “What’s really bothering you,
Lucius?”
Gripping her hand as if it were a lifeline, I swallowed and admitted, “I’m scared. Not for
myself, but for you and your family. He said some pretty brutal stuff, and if I don’t turn
myself in people start dying.”
“What do you mean?”
“He told me point blank. Either I’m there or he goes and starts to kill the people I care
about, which are pretty much limited to you and your family.” Finally I faced the truth. With
tears standing in my eyes, I looked at her. “I nearly lost you once, and I thought it would kill
me. If they got to you and I did lose you, I think it would.”
Pulling me over to her, she gave me a fierce kiss and laid my head on her breast,
murmuring, “I’m not going anywhere.” The tears I had been trying to contain broke through,
and I wept like a broken-hearted child until I fell asleep.
When the alarm woke us up, I found that Marita had shifted us so that we were now
spooned, with her behind and holding me. Whispering into my ear, she asked, “Better
now?”
“Much. Thanks.” Getting out of bed, I shut down the alarm and said, “How about you? Any
problems?”
Crawling out of bed, she began to strip off her nightshirt. “A couple nightmares. Nothing
major.” Dropping the shirt to the floor, she stepped over to me and kissed me. “I wasn’t the
one that needed comforting last night. Thank you for letting me.” Giving my hand a
squeeze, she ran her hand along my shorts as she turned to the bathroom. “Ready for a
shower?”
After the shower, we dressed casually and cleaned up the room. As she did her hair and
makeup, I straightened up the bed and bagged up the laundry. As we left the room, I saw
that it was still about 11:30. In the living room Builder was at the computer while the Dark
Lady reclined against her husband, who was half asleep on the couch. After pouring coffee,
we took our usual seat.
After maybe another ten of fifteen minutes, the Lady looked at me. “Have you made your
decision?”
With a slight smile, and a small gesture of my hand, I said, “Yes and no. The Shield Maiden
and I have a couple errands to run, and we thought we’d grab some lunch while we were
out. It’ll probably take a couple hours. During that time I hope to get a better idea of what to
do.”
Ishmael was apparently paying better attention than it seemed. “You’ll forgive me if I say
that seems an extremely foolish thing to do. You’d be better off staying here where it’s
safe.”
I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. “Safe? The Shield Maiden was grabbed from work,
in a damned court house of all places, then beaten and violated. God alone knows what
they’d have done to her had we not found and rescued her. During that little job we were
all injured in one way or another. I just got told that I either turn myself in or this
Organization will do God knows what to me and those I care about.
“Oh, and in case you’ve forgotten, we have to pray that a damned politician has the balls to
do the right thing, once in his life, or the entire city gets blown clear to hell.”
Pausing to catch my breath, and my temper, I continued. “What I’m trying to say is that he
gave me until 5 to be there. Although I have no doubt that he’ll have me followed, I’m
reasonably safe until that time. So, I’m going to do the chores that should have been done
yesterday. After we get back, the five of us can discuss what I’ve decided.
After dropping off our laundry at Cho’s, where they washed it for us, Marita and I ate at the
deli down the street. Since it was close to 3 by the time we were finished, we stopped to
vote before going back home.
There was a heavy set black woman down the table from us who asked permission to take
her son in with her, so that he could see, “Democracy in action.” Snorting under my breath,
I finished signing in, and the two of us took our place in line.
After voting, we picked up our dry cleaning and our laundry and went home. It was nearly 4
by the time we let ourselves in. Builder was still on the computer. Ishmael was on the sofa,
watching the coverage of the election. The Lady sat beside him, engrossed in her book.
Marita and I vanished into our bedroom to put away the clothing. Then we prepared a fairly
simple dinner, setting the table shortly after the deadline of 5 had passed.
After we were seated, and had begun eating, the Dark Lady looked closely at me. “What
have you decided?”
Swallowing a drink, I said, “Either alone or with your assistance, I’m going to Kirby Plaza
tomorrow, to put an end to this.”
Marita laid her hand on my arm. “Not alone.”
Ishmael pushed back his emptied plate. Leaning back, he glanced at the Lady and then
back at me. “All right, we’ll all go. What’s the plan?”
During the rest of dinner, and back in the living room over the muted election results, we
created and altered a plan. The only halt in our conversation came when the station called
the election. The talking head running the studio coverage peered closely at his notes and
began speaking even as we turned the volume back on. “Nathan Petrelli, despite tailing his
chief opponent for his seat by up to three points in the polls, has achieved a stunning,
landslide, victory. By a vote of sixty-four percent, Mr. Petrelli has won the congressional
election.”
We turned the television off as he turned and began to engage another talking head in
conversation. Scratching the back of my neck, I said, “Well, that, as they say, is that. We’re
one step closer to Armageddon.” With that comment, we launched back into tailoring the
plan we were shaping. Around midnight or a little before we all headed for bed, after
agreeing to be ready to leave no later than 3 pm.
Waking to the alarm at 10, Marita and I took a long and relaxing shower. After drying each
other off, we straightened up the room and made the bed before getting dressed.
After dressing, I looked with some surprise at Marita’s less conservative choice of
clothing. I had chosen a dark green turtleneck sweater, somewhat loose around the throat,
coupling that with a pair of dark navy slacks and black Sketchers. Marita, on the other hand,
had apparently decided to stay stripped down for action. She had slipped into a pair of low
riding, hip hugging leather pants of a dark violet, and a pair of high healed, scarlet calf
boots. As I watched, she pulled a deep violet leather halter top into place.
After slipping it on, she spent a few brief seconds adjusting the fit. Although it fit snug
enough to prevent her from revealing more than she wanted, it was a daring top. It
wrapped around the back and part way across the breasts. There was a small band of
leather, directly under the breast, no more than three inches thick, that completely
wrapped around the chest. That piece stretched up into twin bands, also stretching from
the thicker wrapped piece, which crossed just above the breasts and became a loop to go
around her neck. Although well designed, and of a secure fit, it left a generous amount of
cleavage exposed. Coupled with the wolf’s head pendant, the effect was extremely sexy,
stepping just short of trashy- a line she occasionally enjoyed flirting with.
As she busied herself at her vanity, I pulled my red-brown leather duster, and her scarlet
trench coat, out of the closet. When she was finished, I draped them over my arm and
walked with her into the living room, where the others were already waiting.
Builder, as usual seated at the computer, was wearing a simple, light blue-grey t-shirt with
blue jeans and tennis shoes. Ishmael, seated in his regular spot on the sofa, wore an
extremely dark blue, bordering on black, pullover sweater over a dress shirt, paired with
black slacks and loafers. The Dark Lady, reclining against his side, wore a blue turtleneck,
nearly as dark as her hair, that was tight enough for me to briefly question exactly how she
had pulled it on. She coupled this with a pair of dark green slacks and black boots
Letting Marita sit down, I slipped into the kitchen to pour coffee. Back in the living room,
silence ruled as we each were left to our thoughts. The only regular sound was the tapping
of the keyboard as Builder worked at the computer.
Around 1, the Dark Lady fixed a quick lunch that we ate where we were sitting. After
another hour had passed, we began our preparations. Since we had decided that Marita
and I would remain invisible until we made it past security, the two of us carried the
weapons and equipment, with the exception of the PDAs.
Shrugging into my coat, I helped Marita pull hers on as the other three did the same.
Builder slipped into a standard bomber jacket. Ishmael pulled on a leather jacket slightly
darker than mine as the Lady slid into a sleek black leather jacket.
Turning to go, I realized that Marita had fastened the fighting gloves into place, sliding the
cuff and a portion of the lower arm of her trench coat inside the gloves. With a savage grin,
she returned my look. “I don’t want to waste time putting them on later. Anyway, I don’t
think it likely that the police will fail to check for prints after what we do there.”
Ceding the point, I stepped back into the bedroom long enough to grab a pair of black
leather gloves from the closet. Back out at the apartment door, I noticed that the other
three were also tugging on gloves. When we finally were ready to go, a little after 3, I took
Marita’s hand and faded us into invisibility as Builder opened the door to let us out.
The walk took long enough that I was able to coach Marita through the finer points of
moving in my peculiar form of invisibility. The first half of the lengthy trip brought gradual
improvement, although it was occasionally painful. By the tie we reached the building, she
was competent.
As planned, the two of us followed Ishmael through the metal detector inside the door.
When the alarm went off, we stepped aside as they sent him back through. When it failed to
go off this time, they waved the detection wands over him. Unable to find anything, they
reluctantly waved him past, where he waited for the Dark Lady and Builder. As arranged, I
tapped his elbow when Marita and I joined him. Seconds later, they joined us and we
moved to the next obstacle.
A young man was standing in front of the rear entrance. As we approached, he held up his
hand. “Sorry. I’m going to need to see ID.”
Digging in his jacket, Ishmael pulled out his wallet and flipped it open, revealing the special
Organization ID we had liberated from Daniel. “Hope this covers it son, we have an
appointment with Mr. Linderman.”
Glancing at the card, the guard’s face paled slightly. “Absolutely, sir.” Standing aside, he let
them pass, with Marita and I trailing invisibly along.
Back by the elevators, we saw a young black man standing anxiously beside an attractive
blonde in a tan jacket. They were apparently in conversation with a middle aged gentleman
wearing what appeared to be horn rimmed glasses, and a slightly overweight man with dark
hair. After a brief conversation, the four of them slipped into the elevator and vanished
from sight as the doors closed. However, the dark haired man seemed to sense my
presence. As the doors closed, he looked directly at me.
Several minutes later we were in another elevator. As Builder use the key, I flipped the
light and made Marita and myself visible. As the elevator sped along, we handed out the
weapons and communicators. When the elevator doors opened, we found ourselves
staring into an empty hall, with a directory on the wall. Although it contained basic
descriptions of what seemed nearly a hundred offices, it didn’t seem to show where Dan
could be found.
Stopping for a second, I came to a quick decision. “Listen, it’s going to take all night to
search this place normally. Dark Lady, can you track him?”
Closing her eyes for a minute, she shook her head. “I can tell that he’s here, somewhere in
the back half of this floor, but that’s it.”
‘Builder, is there anything you can do?”
“Sorry. I don’t have anything to work with, and no idea what to do if I did.”
“Damn! I was afraid of that. All right, I think the only choice is for us to split up.”
Ishmael’s face told me that he was having trouble believing what he had just heard.
“Excuse me?”
I shrugged. “I’m not really happy with it, but I don’t see much choice. If we were to try and
search this place as a single group, it would take forever. At least, if we split into two
groups, there’s a chance of finding him before dawn.”
The Lady stared intensely at me for several minutes before nodding her agreement. As the
three of them turned to head the opposite way, I said, “Call if you find him. I don’t much
care who or how, so long as he dies.”
After they left, Marita and I began to head down our hall. The first door we tried was locked,
and I belatedly remembered that Builder had the key. After a quick discussion with my
fiancée, I took the handle with one hand and laid the other along the frame. Emitting the
narrowest and hottest beam I could manage, I slid it down the frame until it melted through
the latch. Opening the door, we discovered the office to be empty.
Moving down through the halls, the routine became dangerously monotonous. Break in,
look around, leave and repeat with the next door. Ten, twenty, forty or more door;
eventually we lost count. After a seemingly endless number of doors and God alone knows
how much time, every light in the hall went out. Before the crucial seconds I needed for my
ability to automatically adjust for the lack of light, they came back on.
Looking around in confusion, I found that I had been somehow transported to an emptied
office. Marita was missing, but Daniel stood off to one side, leaning casually against a wall.
With a mocking smile on his face and in his voice, he said, “I’m somewhat disappointed in
you, Lucius. I had hoped for something with a little more originality or, I don’t know,
panache from you. Instead, you chose the tired old ‘kill him at work’ ploy.”
Shrugging uncomfortably, I replied, “Sorry. I didn’t really have time for anything elaborate. I’
ll try and do better next time.”
“There won’t be a next time.”
“If you insist.” With a savage grin, I whipped out the .45 and pumped off three rounds at his
chest. The only problem was that, by the time the bullets crossed the distance, he was no
longer there. Marita was.
I watched in stunned horror as her body jerked back with the trio of impacts. Three spots
on her chest exploded into bloody blossoms. Looking down, she gaped at the wounds and
collapsed. She had only enough time to look back at me in horror and mouth, “Why?”
Even as she collapsed to the floor, I was in motion. Throwing the gun aside, I ran to her and
caught her just as she hit the floor. Cradling her head in my lap, I broke into tears. Refusing
to believe that she had died, I took my knife and sliced off her halter top. Cutting it into
strips and bandages, I used my duster to wipe around the wounds. Bandaging her up
consumed my attention.
After the bandages were in place, I began to gently massage her chest, praying that the
silent heart would begin again to pound. I pressed my mouth to hers in a futile attempt to
breathe life into her stilled lungs. Again and again I tried, endlessly repeating the futile, and
increasingly desperate, attempts to bring her back. Finally, in exhausted surrender, I
closed her eyes and kissed her lips with a final farewell.
Cradling her head in my lap, I closed my eyes and remembered the first time we met, the
grace and fire she displayed on the dance floor. I recalled the toss of her head, the sparkle
in her eyes, and the lilt in her voice; the nearly violent eroticism as well as the quiet
passion of our intimate moments; the pleasure she received when I was able to give her
even the smallest gifts, as well as the greater joy she took in being able to give me gifts;
the feeling of our bodies as we lay together, skin on skin. All those moments that had come
and gone, brief and fleeting and never to come again. Still weeping in broken hearted
despair, I looked down into her face. She had brought life, love and happiness into the life
of a man who had never before known them, and I repaid her priceless gift with death.
Suddenly a mocking voice interrupted my grief. “You really should have turned yourself in,
you know. She’d probably still be alive if you had.”
Looking up, I saw, through tear and grief bleared eyes, Daniel in front of me. Looking back
down at Marita, I muttered, “Just kill me.”
That mocking laugh reappeared. “No, I don’t think so.” I felt him move over to me, standing
over and looking down. “It really serves you right, you know. You, and she, got what you
deserved. After all, you did brutally murder my friend and partner. Now your friend and
lover lies dead, and at your own hand. I call that irony, and figure it makes us roughly even.”
Turning my eyes to him, I screamed out, “JUST F***ING KILL ME!!!”
Laughing, he began to respond. Suddenly, he doubled over as if someone had kicked him
in the stomach. His head shot up, as if someone had grabbed him by the throat, and
bounced off the air behind him. As his eyes glazed, and he sagged to one knee, the office
around us faded away, to be replaced by the hall from which I had thought I had been
transported from.
Inconceivably, Marita was alive and well, and beating the crap out of Dan. In stunned and
horrified disbelief, I looked into my lap and watched her dead body fade into nothingness.
Looking back up, I watched as, shrieking curses all the while, she used her self defense
training, as well are the strength she had gained from her years spent dancing, to
completely dismantle him.
Every time she hit him, she left behind severely bruised or broken skin. Every time she
kicked him, her heels left deep and jagged wounds. He’d block a slashing blow from her
hand, only to find himself pierced by those lethal heels when she whipped around with a
kick. If he tried to block the kick, she’d whip out a hand to lay him open.
Apparently tiring of playing with him, Marita dropped back for a brief second. Dipping her
hand inside her trench coat, she whipped out the knife. With the same motion, she stepped
back inside his guard and jammed the blade to the hilt in his crotch, and then dropped back
out. When his hands dropped to his crotch in an attempt to pull out the knife, she whipped
a pair of strong kicks out, shattering both of his shoulders.
As he sank to his knees, shrieking in agony, she grasped him by the throat and pulled him
upright. Grasping the haft of the knife, she twisted and wiggled it as she withdrew it,
snarling as his screams grew shriller and more pain filled. Wiping the blade on his shirt and
replacing it in her coat, she growled something inaudible in his ear. Thrusting him back
against the wall, she used that force to spin her full circle. Clenching her fist as she spun,
she used the impetus of the movement to add force to her punch as she smashed him in
the face.
His nose vanished in an explosion of blood. I watched in awe as the force of the blow
caused the front of his skull to partially cave, flattening his face. His shrieks of agony were
abruptly silenced as the gloves performed their deadly task. Even as his nose caved, the
blades released from their sheaths on either side of her fist. In the flash of a second, they
slid through his eyes into his brain. As she finished her blow the blades retracted. As the
thread of life was severed, he collapsed to the floor.
Turning her back on his dead or dying body, she walked over to me. Helping me to my feet,
she held me tightly while I clasped her to me as a drowning man would a life preserver.
After several minutes, she released me with a brief, passionate kiss. Smiling sadly, she
said, “Now you know.”
Reaching up, she removed the headset from me and slid it into place. Keying the mike, she
said, “Dan has been located and dealt with.” Cocking her head slightly, apparently listening
to someone on the other end, she said, “Really? He’s dead?” Listening for another minute,
she laughed. “Both? Good. We’ll meet you out front.”
With another quick kiss, she grabbed my hand. “They found Thompson in what looked like a
hospital room. Someone had shot him two or three times. They also heard a security radio
call claiming that they’d found Mr. Linderman, also dead.” Hugging me briefly before
practically ripping my hand off as she took off running, she said, “If we can get out of here,
we’re free.”
Following her as she dragged my hand through the halls at a dead run, we reached the
elevators in short order. Unfortunately, they were locked in place. Breaking open the door,
we ran down the stairs and through the abandoned lobby. Emerging through the front
doors, we found that the Plaza, unlike the building, was far from abandoned.
A quick survey showed maybe a dozen or so people scattered around. Nearby was the man
in horn rimmed glasses that I had spotted earlier. A little further away was a man, who
appeared to be of Hindi origin, trying to bandage the slightly overweight man who I had
seen board the elevator with Mr. Horn Rims. A little further around the square, I found the
blond woman and black man that had been on the elevator as well. The man had apparently
been injured, because he stood with one arm pressed tightly to his side, and the other
draped over the blonde’s shoulder. With them were two children; a girl of maybe 10 years,
and a black boy, roughly the same age, who looked familiar for some reason. In the center,
near the fountain, there stood a young man in a white shirt. I vaguely recognized him from
an old press conference as Nathan Petrelli’s brother, Peter. What was odd wasn’t that he
was standing there, but that his hands were glowing an extremely bright white and yellow.
His face as he held the hands against his chest clearly indicated that something was wrong.
Turning, he glanced near me and said, “Do it.”
Spinning around, I saw a young blonde girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, holding a gun in her
badly shaking hand. As she tried, through tear filled eyes, to steady it, Peter emphasized
what he was saying. “Do it! You’re the only one, Claire.”
Claire tried to steady the gun, and looked over the barrel, which was shaking
uncontrollably, and cried out, “Tell me there’s another way. Please!”
Peter started to turn back around, holding up his hands as if in proof. “Shoot me! There is
no other way.”
As she raised the gun again, attempting to get it steadied, a sound as of rushing wind came
in. Suddenly, the recently elected Nathan Petrelli swooped onto the pavement between
them. Raising one hand to Claire, he said, so softly I could barely make it out, “Yeas, there
is, Claire.”
Pushing the barrel to point at the ground, he said, “The future isn’t written in stone.”
Peter looked at his brother in desperation, “I took his power, Nathan.” As they turned to
face each other, he continued, “I can’t control it. I can’t do anything.”
“I’m not leaving you, Peter.” Walking over to his brother, who was getting brighter with
every moment, he said, “There’s another way to end this, and you know it.”
In a broken voice, Peter said, “I can’t let you die.”
“And I can’t let everyone else.” Turning to face the girl they’d identified as Claire, he said,
“You saved the cheerleader, so that we could save the world.”
As they stepped into an embrace, Peter said, “I love you, Nathan.”
“I love you too.”
At that moment I was briefly distracted by the arrival of the rest of our little group. “Lady,
Ishmael, Builder. You missed the drama.”
Enigmatically, she said, “Call me Angel. No, I think it’s just about to start.”
“Angel?”
“It’s my name. Watch.”
Turning back around, I watched as Nathan and Peter launched into the dark and cloudy sky.
Seconds passed in silence. Suddenly, the sky was torn apart with a silent explosion. The
Plaza was briefly lit as if it were midday by a new sun that thrust the clouds aside, and
reflected on each face that was turned up to it.
As it faded away, Mr. Horn Rims was walking past us, with an arm draped over the girl,
Claire. Briefly he looked at me before saying, “The police will be here soon. I don’t know
what you’re doing here, but you may want to be gone when they show up.”
Taking his advice, we began to walk back to our apartment. During the walk, I looked at the
Dark Lady and said, “Would you care to explain?”
Smiling lightly, she said, “The codes by which you’ve known us, and by which we’ve known
you, for the past couple months served a dual purpose. They were, as my beloved told you,
the ways in which I saw each of us in my visions. However, the other purpose they served
was safety. Since we only used the codes, nobody had a chance to overhear our proper
names and inform the Organization.”
“So, why’d you just tell me your name was Angel?”
“Because it is. The codes aren’t needed, because the event has happened, and the
Organization is no longer a problem.”
As we walked back to the apartment, laughing in relief that the apocalypse had been
avoided, we came to know each other properly. I learned that the woman I had known as
the Dark Lady was actually named Angel Callaghan. Her husband, hitherto known only as
Ishmael, was Ishmael Callaghan. Builder’s true name was Dustin Sommer. I introduced
myself, Lucius Kemp, and my fiancée, Marita de Contego. As the sirens sounded, we walked
home.
Chapter 2, Part 9: The Exploding Man
By Chris Ward
The nightmares were not as easily disposed as the doubts. Although neither as frequent
nor as severe, they still came. Once again, I found myself waking to comfort and reassure
her several times. Waking for the day, I found Marita sprawled on her stomach. Her head
was pillowed on my shoulder, with an arm crossing my chest and both legs entwined with
mine. Rolling my head to stretch my neck, I glimpsed the alarm clock. Swearing under my
breath, I gently shook her awake.
Eyes half-open, she mumbled something in Spanish. Brushing the hair away from her
cheek, I apologized for waking her. “Sorry, mi amante, but it looks to be past time for
waking up.”
Levering her head onto my chest so she could see the alarm, she breathed, “¡Cristo! Why
didn’t you set the alarm?”
Coughing lightly, I smiled. “It sort of slipped my mind. I was a little distracted when we went
to bed.”
I could tell she was blushing furiously from the playful way she slapped my chest. Resting
her head back on my shoulder and curling against my side, she played with a little of my
chest hair. “Still. I mean, I could see sleeping to maybe 1, but 3?”
Running my fingers lightly up her spine, I shrugged. “We were tired. You spent most of
yesterday in various stages of worry and fear.” I was determined not to admit that she wasn’
t the only one. “After the good news, we got quite a workout before sneaking back in after
1 in the morning.”
Rolling her eyes, she untangled herself and rolled out of bed. Stopping at the bathroom
door, she threw an arch look over her shoulder. “Well, are you coming?”
Smothering a laugh, I rolled out of bed and followed her in. “Yes, dear.”
Afterward, I dressed in jeans and polo, straightening up while Marita slid into jeans and a
plain blouse. After helping me make the bed, I sat on the edge of it and watched while she
tied back her hair and applied a little makeup.
The Dark Lady was alone in the room when we entered. Looking up from her book, she
flashed a smile. “I was beginning to wonder if you two planned on coming out at all today.”
Playfully slapping the back of my head, Marita said, “You can thank Einstein for that.”
Skipping out of range before I could swat her butt, she laughed. “Something appears to
have distracted him last night, and he forgot to set the alarm.”
Throwing her an arch look, the Lady said, “I wonder what could have possibly distracted
him that much.” When Marita started blushing, the Lady laughed. “There should still be
some coffee left. I sent Ishmael and Builder down to do our laundry and pick up something
for dinner tonight.”
Marita looked at me as she sat. “Would you mind just bringing me a cup of tea?”
“No problem. You may want to call your office and give them some sort of excuse for where
you’ve been.” By the time I had made her tea, and had fixed myself a strong cup of Irish
coffee, she had completed the call and was draped across the chair half asleep. When I
handed her the tea, she shifted long enough for me to sit down.
Reclining back in the chair, I draped an arm around her where she lay against my chest.
After maybe half an hour, I almost dropped my cup when I remembered what I had left
undone when she went missing. Looking at me with alarm, Marita said, “What’s up? You
look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Explaining what had happened, I headed back to my work computer, Marita laughing as she
followed, and powered it up. Forty minutes later I had found the supplier they needed.
Contacting both parties, I arranged the deal. After disconnecting from the supplier, I
apologized profusely to my client. Explaining that my fiancée had been seriously injured in
a car wreck, I waved my regular fee and offered my services, one time only, for half price if
they needed another deal arranged.
“That’s what you do back here?”
I had almost forgotten that she was here with me. Shutting down the computer and getting
up, I grunted, “Pretty much.”
Back in the living room, Builder and Ishmael had returned while I was working, and the Lady
was fixing dinner. The rest of the evening was mostly uneventful. After dinner, we cleaned
up and talked in the living room. At first the discussion was mostly random ad bounced
from the weather to sports and politics.
I was finally able to steer the conversation in the direction I was most interested in, and we
started discussing the Organization. Looking down where Marita was relaxing in my arms,
absently playing with my ring, I cleared my throat. When she glanced up, I said, “Hon, I really
hate to bring up bad memories, but, when I found you, you said Dan told you he was going
somewhere. Can you remember where he said he was going?”
Her eyes grew distant for a minute as she searched her memory. Finally she nodded. “I don’
t know where, exactly, but he told me something about having been recalled to
headquarters. Why?”
“Because I think we may know where he is.” Gently nudging her to let me up, I went to the
nearby computer. Opening the drawer, I pulled out the phone and card. Pulling up a
browser on the computer, I searched through the phone for the listing I remembered.
Finding the number for Headquarters, typed it into a reverse phone number search on the
internet. Comparing the address that it coughed up with the card, I was relieved to find
them identical. Turning off the phone and putting both it and the card back in the drawer, I
pulled up a map and input the address.
When the map popped up the location, I couldn’t contain a grin. “All right. We know where
he is. What we don’t know is how to get to him.”
Marita had followed me over. “What do you mean?”
Getting up from the computer, leaving the map up, we went back to the chair and seated
ourselves. “It’s actually fairly simple. You told us that he mentioned something about
Headquarters. One of the numbers in his phone was under that heading. Keying that
number into a search gave me an address. Comparing that address to the one on the card
was the final verification. Keying it into the map search, I discovered it to be in the main
building at Kirby Plaza.”
The Lady kept an eye on me from her reclined position beside her husband. “What did you
have in mind?”
Shrugging, I answered with almost complete honesty. “I thought we’d go in, kill Danny boy
and, shall we say, explain the realities to his bosses.”
Quirking an eyebrow at me, Ishmael asked, “Explain?”
Shrugging, I threw him a half grin and shifted position. The Lady glanced at her watch and
commented, “Whatever it is we decide, I think it should be decided tomorrow. It’s nearly
midnight.”
Finishing our drinks, Marita and I went to the bedroom. Getting ready for bed, I wrapped my
arms around her waist and whispered in her era, “Are you tired yet?”
“Not really. Why?”
Loosening my grip, I let my hands start exploring. “I’ll scrub your back if you’ll do mine.”
After the shower, I set the alarm and joined her in bed, where we learned that neither of us
were quite finished. After we finally went to sleep, it was a repeat of the previous nights.
Although the nightmares continued to decrease in frequency and intensity, they still came.
Waking up to the alarm, around 9, we went through the typical morning routine, making it
into the living room around 10. With her sitting at the island, drinking coffee and talking
about nothing, I fixed us a quick breakfast. After eating and cleaning up, we went to the
living room and joined the other three.
After relaxing into the chair, I looked around. “Whatever else we decide to do today, I want
out of this apartment.”
Shifting position next to his wife, Ishmael said, “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said. With a couple exceptions, we’ve been stuck in this place for better
than a week, longer than that even since the group of us just had a bit of fun.”
The Lady lifted an eyebrow in skepticism at the idea. ‘Has it slipped your mind that Daniel is
still out there, or that our world may be coming to an end in the next few days?”
Looking at her in curiosity, I asked, “Have you seen something then?”
Shrugging uncomfortably, she admitted, “Not precisely. I’ve seen that it will boil down to a
single decision made by the Brother of Flight. The question before him is of love; does he
love power more than he loves his own flesh and blood, the Brother of Power?”
“So our part at the end will still be mostly peripheral?”
“So it would seem. What are you getting at?”
Shrugging, I explained. “I figured we could discuss how best to get to Dan while we were
out, but we could have fun too. Go shopping, go to a decent restaurant for dinner, and
maybe catch a movie or show. Frankly, I think we’ve been closed up long enough.
Less than an hour later, shortly after noon, we were seated at a small deli down the street.
Sketching in our rough plans for getting into the Kirby Plaza building, we finished our
lunch. The rest of the day was spent interspersing business with pleasure. Through the
hours spent shopping, as well as window shopping, we made and reviewed the plans. After
dinner at a new Italian spot, we went to see an off-Broadway production of Cats.
As we were leaving the theatre, I turned on my phone. It started ringing before I could
replace it in my suit coat. Glancing at the screen, I saw that my caller was blocking both his
name and his number. Flipping it open, I said, “Hello?”
A dry, cynical voice which I had cause to remember came over the line. “Mr. Kemp?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s not fool around. You know who and what I am, and I have the same information about
you. Since you turned on my phone yesterday, I assume you know where I am, which means
that little c*** whore…”
Interrupting in strangled fury, I said, “Listen, you filthy sack of s***, there’s nothing I look
forward to with as much pleasure as ridding you of your worthless life. Right now I just want
to kill you and move on with my life. Don’t make me change my mind.”
“Get off it. Christ, man, I’ve seen the video. She was practically begging for it. S***, she
started slinging it as soon as he mounted her. The little slut couldn’t wait to be taken like
an animal by a real man.”
“Keep pushing, bastard, just keep pushing. What the f*** do you want?”
Laughing, he explained. “Fine. The point of this little contact is that, thanks to her blabbing
mouth, my phone and, doubtless, the ever helpful internet, you know where I’m at.”
“And if I do?”
“Be here tomorrow, 5 pm sharp. Flash the card you and your little b**** took from me to the
guy guarding the doors. Tell him that Thompson wants to talk to you. Take the skeleton key
along. I know you used it on your little murder raid at the safe house- which, by the way,
didn’t impress my bosses- so I know that you know how to use it. What isn’t obvious is that
its primary use is as an elevator key. Once in the elevator, turn the key and you’ll be taken
directly to my floor, uninterrupted. A small group of my friends and fellow agents will be
waiting for you.
“If you do this, you have my word that the Organization will leave sweet little Marita alone.
If, however, you screw us over, I will make it my sacred task to capture you, but only after
you’ve been forced to watch everyone even tangentially associated with you die as
horrible a death as I can manufacture.”
“You’ll forgive me if I suggest that I find your word to be of less value than used toilet
paper, and the idea that you even recognize honor completely laughable. However, that
being said, you don’t seem to have left me much choice.”
“Glad you see it that way. Tomorrow, 5 sharp.” After he disconnected, I stood there staring
at the phone for several minutes. Finally replacing it in my suit coat, I looked into the
distance in cold fury, hands clenched in my pockets.
Marita came up to me, linking her arm through mine, and said, “Who was it, baby?”
Placing the opposite hand on her arm, I explained the phone call to them as we walked
back to the apartment. When I finished, we were silent during the remainder of the walk.
After I let us in, we sat in our regular seats.
From the sofa, Ishmael asked, “So, what do you plan to do?”
“Honestly? I don’t have a clue.”
Marita looked up from where she was reclining on my chest. “You’re not surrendering, are
you?”
Shrugging uncomfortably, I said, “If I thought he could be trusted, I might consider it.”
Running a finger down her throat, I traced on of the last of her fading bruises. “But, he’s
already proven himself to have no honor. Coming after me is one thing. It’s business,
something I can understand. Coming after someone I love, torturing and violating them for
amusement, simply to get to me through them though? No. I can’t understand that, I won’t
forgive it and will most certainly exact some sort of revenge for it.
“Anyway, assuming he honored his word and left you alone, that still leaves the Lady,
Builder and Ishmael.” Looking at them, I smiled a little. “The Organization definitely is going
to want to grab you three.”
The Lady looked closely at me. “You are probably correct. The question now becomes what
you intend to do. What you’ve just said indicates that you’ve decided to stay away from him,
but I sense that isn’t quite right.”
“Honestly? I haven’t decided. Trying to stay away from him, to avoid him, would just cause
more problems. I don’t have a clue about what to do.”
Marita looked at the clock and stood from the chair. Reaching down a hand, she pulled me
to my feet. “Since it’s a little past midnight now, I think the final order of business for the
night should be to go to bed.” Pushing me toward the bedroom, she looked back at the
Lady. “We’ll see you three around noon.”
After getting into bed, Marita took my hand under the covers. “What’s really bothering you,
Lucius?”
Gripping her hand as if it were a lifeline, I swallowed and admitted, “I’m scared. Not for
myself, but for you and your family. He said some pretty brutal stuff, and if I don’t turn
myself in people start dying.”
“What do you mean?”
“He told me point blank. Either I’m there or he goes and starts to kill the people I care
about, which are pretty much limited to you and your family.” Finally I faced the truth. With
tears standing in my eyes, I looked at her. “I nearly lost you once, and I thought it would kill
me. If they got to you and I did lose you, I think it would.”
Pulling me over to her, she gave me a fierce kiss and laid my head on her breast,
murmuring, “I’m not going anywhere.” The tears I had been trying to contain broke through,
and I wept like a broken-hearted child until I fell asleep.
When the alarm woke us up, I found that Marita had shifted us so that we were now
spooned, with her behind and holding me. Whispering into my ear, she asked, “Better
now?”
“Much. Thanks.” Getting out of bed, I shut down the alarm and said, “How about you? Any
problems?”
Crawling out of bed, she began to strip off her nightshirt. “A couple nightmares. Nothing
major.” Dropping the shirt to the floor, she stepped over to me and kissed me. “I wasn’t the
one that needed comforting last night. Thank you for letting me.” Giving my hand a
squeeze, she ran her hand along my shorts as she turned to the bathroom. “Ready for a
shower?”
After the shower, we dressed casually and cleaned up the room. As she did her hair and
makeup, I straightened up the bed and bagged up the laundry. As we left the room, I saw
that it was still about 11:30. In the living room Builder was at the computer while the Dark
Lady reclined against her husband, who was half asleep on the couch. After pouring coffee,
we took our usual seat.
After maybe another ten of fifteen minutes, the Lady looked at me. “Have you made your
decision?”
With a slight smile, and a small gesture of my hand, I said, “Yes and no. The Shield Maiden
and I have a couple errands to run, and we thought we’d grab some lunch while we were
out. It’ll probably take a couple hours. During that time I hope to get a better idea of what to
do.”
Ishmael was apparently paying better attention than it seemed. “You’ll forgive me if I say
that seems an extremely foolish thing to do. You’d be better off staying here where it’s
safe.”
I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. “Safe? The Shield Maiden was grabbed from work,
in a damned court house of all places, then beaten and violated. God alone knows what
they’d have done to her had we not found and rescued her. During that little job we were
all injured in one way or another. I just got told that I either turn myself in or this
Organization will do God knows what to me and those I care about.
“Oh, and in case you’ve forgotten, we have to pray that a damned politician has the balls to
do the right thing, once in his life, or the entire city gets blown clear to hell.”
Pausing to catch my breath, and my temper, I continued. “What I’m trying to say is that he
gave me until 5 to be there. Although I have no doubt that he’ll have me followed, I’m
reasonably safe until that time. So, I’m going to do the chores that should have been done
yesterday. After we get back, the five of us can discuss what I’ve decided.
After dropping off our laundry at Cho’s, where they washed it for us, Marita and I ate at the
deli down the street. Since it was close to 3 by the time we were finished, we stopped to
vote before going back home.
There was a heavy set black woman down the table from us who asked permission to take
her son in with her, so that he could see, “Democracy in action.” Snorting under my breath,
I finished signing in, and the two of us took our place in line.
After voting, we picked up our dry cleaning and our laundry and went home. It was nearly 4
by the time we let ourselves in. Builder was still on the computer. Ishmael was on the sofa,
watching the coverage of the election. The Lady sat beside him, engrossed in her book.
Marita and I vanished into our bedroom to put away the clothing. Then we prepared a fairly
simple dinner, setting the table shortly after the deadline of 5 had passed.
After we were seated, and had begun eating, the Dark Lady looked closely at me. “What
have you decided?”
Swallowing a drink, I said, “Either alone or with your assistance, I’m going to Kirby Plaza
tomorrow, to put an end to this.”
Marita laid her hand on my arm. “Not alone.”
Ishmael pushed back his emptied plate. Leaning back, he glanced at the Lady and then
back at me. “All right, we’ll all go. What’s the plan?”
During the rest of dinner, and back in the living room over the muted election results, we
created and altered a plan. The only halt in our conversation came when the station called
the election. The talking head running the studio coverage peered closely at his notes and
began speaking even as we turned the volume back on. “Nathan Petrelli, despite tailing his
chief opponent for his seat by up to three points in the polls, has achieved a stunning,
landslide, victory. By a vote of sixty-four percent, Mr. Petrelli has won the congressional
election.”
We turned the television off as he turned and began to engage another talking head in
conversation. Scratching the back of my neck, I said, “Well, that, as they say, is that. We’re
one step closer to Armageddon.” With that comment, we launched back into tailoring the
plan we were shaping. Around midnight or a little before we all headed for bed, after
agreeing to be ready to leave no later than 3 pm.
Waking to the alarm at 10, Marita and I took a long and relaxing shower. After drying each
other off, we straightened up the room and made the bed before getting dressed.
After dressing, I looked with some surprise at Marita’s less conservative choice of
clothing. I had chosen a dark green turtleneck sweater, somewhat loose around the throat,
coupling that with a pair of dark navy slacks and black Sketchers. Marita, on the other hand,
had apparently decided to stay stripped down for action. She had slipped into a pair of low
riding, hip hugging leather pants of a dark violet, and a pair of high healed, scarlet calf
boots. As I watched, she pulled a deep violet leather halter top into place.
After slipping it on, she spent a few brief seconds adjusting the fit. Although it fit snug
enough to prevent her from revealing more than she wanted, it was a daring top. It
wrapped around the back and part way across the breasts. There was a small band of
leather, directly under the breast, no more than three inches thick, that completely
wrapped around the chest. That piece stretched up into twin bands, also stretching from
the thicker wrapped piece, which crossed just above the breasts and became a loop to go
around her neck. Although well designed, and of a secure fit, it left a generous amount of
cleavage exposed. Coupled with the wolf’s head pendant, the effect was extremely sexy,
stepping just short of trashy- a line she occasionally enjoyed flirting with.
As she busied herself at her vanity, I pulled my red-brown leather duster, and her scarlet
trench coat, out of the closet. When she was finished, I draped them over my arm and
walked with her into the living room, where the others were already waiting.
Builder, as usual seated at the computer, was wearing a simple, light blue-grey t-shirt with
blue jeans and tennis shoes. Ishmael, seated in his regular spot on the sofa, wore an
extremely dark blue, bordering on black, pullover sweater over a dress shirt, paired with
black slacks and loafers. The Dark Lady, reclining against his side, wore a blue turtleneck,
nearly as dark as her hair, that was tight enough for me to briefly question exactly how she
had pulled it on. She coupled this with a pair of dark green slacks and black boots
Letting Marita sit down, I slipped into the kitchen to pour coffee. Back in the living room,
silence ruled as we each were left to our thoughts. The only regular sound was the tapping
of the keyboard as Builder worked at the computer.
Around 1, the Dark Lady fixed a quick lunch that we ate where we were sitting. After
another hour had passed, we began our preparations. Since we had decided that Marita
and I would remain invisible until we made it past security, the two of us carried the
weapons and equipment, with the exception of the PDAs.
Shrugging into my coat, I helped Marita pull hers on as the other three did the same.
Builder slipped into a standard bomber jacket. Ishmael pulled on a leather jacket slightly
darker than mine as the Lady slid into a sleek black leather jacket.
Turning to go, I realized that Marita had fastened the fighting gloves into place, sliding the
cuff and a portion of the lower arm of her trench coat inside the gloves. With a savage grin,
she returned my look. “I don’t want to waste time putting them on later. Anyway, I don’t
think it likely that the police will fail to check for prints after what we do there.”
Ceding the point, I stepped back into the bedroom long enough to grab a pair of black
leather gloves from the closet. Back out at the apartment door, I noticed that the other
three were also tugging on gloves. When we finally were ready to go, a little after 3, I took
Marita’s hand and faded us into invisibility as Builder opened the door to let us out.
The walk took long enough that I was able to coach Marita through the finer points of
moving in my peculiar form of invisibility. The first half of the lengthy trip brought gradual
improvement, although it was occasionally painful. By the tie we reached the building, she
was competent.
As planned, the two of us followed Ishmael through the metal detector inside the door.
When the alarm went off, we stepped aside as they sent him back through. When it failed to
go off this time, they waved the detection wands over him. Unable to find anything, they
reluctantly waved him past, where he waited for the Dark Lady and Builder. As arranged, I
tapped his elbow when Marita and I joined him. Seconds later, they joined us and we
moved to the next obstacle.
A young man was standing in front of the rear entrance. As we approached, he held up his
hand. “Sorry. I’m going to need to see ID.”
Digging in his jacket, Ishmael pulled out his wallet and flipped it open, revealing the special
Organization ID we had liberated from Daniel. “Hope this covers it son, we have an
appointment with Mr. Linderman.”
Glancing at the card, the guard’s face paled slightly. “Absolutely, sir.” Standing aside, he let
them pass, with Marita and I trailing invisibly along.
Back by the elevators, we saw a young black man standing anxiously beside an attractive
blonde in a tan jacket. They were apparently in conversation with a middle aged gentleman
wearing what appeared to be horn rimmed glasses, and a slightly overweight man with dark
hair. After a brief conversation, the four of them slipped into the elevator and vanished
from sight as the doors closed. However, the dark haired man seemed to sense my
presence. As the doors closed, he looked directly at me.
Several minutes later we were in another elevator. As Builder use the key, I flipped the
light and made Marita and myself visible. As the elevator sped along, we handed out the
weapons and communicators. When the elevator doors opened, we found ourselves
staring into an empty hall, with a directory on the wall. Although it contained basic
descriptions of what seemed nearly a hundred offices, it didn’t seem to show where Dan
could be found.
Stopping for a second, I came to a quick decision. “Listen, it’s going to take all night to
search this place normally. Dark Lady, can you track him?”
Closing her eyes for a minute, she shook her head. “I can tell that he’s here, somewhere in
the back half of this floor, but that’s it.”
‘Builder, is there anything you can do?”
“Sorry. I don’t have anything to work with, and no idea what to do if I did.”
“Damn! I was afraid of that. All right, I think the only choice is for us to split up.”
Ishmael’s face told me that he was having trouble believing what he had just heard.
“Excuse me?”
I shrugged. “I’m not really happy with it, but I don’t see much choice. If we were to try and
search this place as a single group, it would take forever. At least, if we split into two
groups, there’s a chance of finding him before dawn.”
The Lady stared intensely at me for several minutes before nodding her agreement. As the
three of them turned to head the opposite way, I said, “Call if you find him. I don’t much
care who or how, so long as he dies.”
After they left, Marita and I began to head down our hall. The first door we tried was locked,
and I belatedly remembered that Builder had the key. After a quick discussion with my
fiancée, I took the handle with one hand and laid the other along the frame. Emitting the
narrowest and hottest beam I could manage, I slid it down the frame until it melted through
the latch. Opening the door, we discovered the office to be empty.
Moving down through the halls, the routine became dangerously monotonous. Break in,
look around, leave and repeat with the next door. Ten, twenty, forty or more door;
eventually we lost count. After a seemingly endless number of doors and God alone knows
how much time, every light in the hall went out. Before the crucial seconds I needed for my
ability to automatically adjust for the lack of light, they came back on.
Looking around in confusion, I found that I had been somehow transported to an emptied
office. Marita was missing, but Daniel stood off to one side, leaning casually against a wall.
With a mocking smile on his face and in his voice, he said, “I’m somewhat disappointed in
you, Lucius. I had hoped for something with a little more originality or, I don’t know,
panache from you. Instead, you chose the tired old ‘kill him at work’ ploy.”
Shrugging uncomfortably, I replied, “Sorry. I didn’t really have time for anything elaborate. I’
ll try and do better next time.”
“There won’t be a next time.”
“If you insist.” With a savage grin, I whipped out the .45 and pumped off three rounds at his
chest. The only problem was that, by the time the bullets crossed the distance, he was no
longer there. Marita was.
I watched in stunned horror as her body jerked back with the trio of impacts. Three spots
on her chest exploded into bloody blossoms. Looking down, she gaped at the wounds and
collapsed. She had only enough time to look back at me in horror and mouth, “Why?”
Even as she collapsed to the floor, I was in motion. Throwing the gun aside, I ran to her and
caught her just as she hit the floor. Cradling her head in my lap, I broke into tears. Refusing
to believe that she had died, I took my knife and sliced off her halter top. Cutting it into
strips and bandages, I used my duster to wipe around the wounds. Bandaging her up
consumed my attention.
After the bandages were in place, I began to gently massage her chest, praying that the
silent heart would begin again to pound. I pressed my mouth to hers in a futile attempt to
breathe life into her stilled lungs. Again and again I tried, endlessly repeating the futile, and
increasingly desperate, attempts to bring her back. Finally, in exhausted surrender, I
closed her eyes and kissed her lips with a final farewell.
Cradling her head in my lap, I closed my eyes and remembered the first time we met, the
grace and fire she displayed on the dance floor. I recalled the toss of her head, the sparkle
in her eyes, and the lilt in her voice; the nearly violent eroticism as well as the quiet
passion of our intimate moments; the pleasure she received when I was able to give her
even the smallest gifts, as well as the greater joy she took in being able to give me gifts;
the feeling of our bodies as we lay together, skin on skin. All those moments that had come
and gone, brief and fleeting and never to come again. Still weeping in broken hearted
despair, I looked down into her face. She had brought life, love and happiness into the life
of a man who had never before known them, and I repaid her priceless gift with death.
Suddenly a mocking voice interrupted my grief. “You really should have turned yourself in,
you know. She’d probably still be alive if you had.”
Looking up, I saw, through tear and grief bleared eyes, Daniel in front of me. Looking back
down at Marita, I muttered, “Just kill me.”
That mocking laugh reappeared. “No, I don’t think so.” I felt him move over to me, standing
over and looking down. “It really serves you right, you know. You, and she, got what you
deserved. After all, you did brutally murder my friend and partner. Now your friend and
lover lies dead, and at your own hand. I call that irony, and figure it makes us roughly even.”
Turning my eyes to him, I screamed out, “JUST F***ING KILL ME!!!”
Laughing, he began to respond. Suddenly, he doubled over as if someone had kicked him
in the stomach. His head shot up, as if someone had grabbed him by the throat, and
bounced off the air behind him. As his eyes glazed, and he sagged to one knee, the office
around us faded away, to be replaced by the hall from which I had thought I had been
transported from.
Inconceivably, Marita was alive and well, and beating the crap out of Dan. In stunned and
horrified disbelief, I looked into my lap and watched her dead body fade into nothingness.
Looking back up, I watched as, shrieking curses all the while, she used her self defense
training, as well are the strength she had gained from her years spent dancing, to
completely dismantle him.
Every time she hit him, she left behind severely bruised or broken skin. Every time she
kicked him, her heels left deep and jagged wounds. He’d block a slashing blow from her
hand, only to find himself pierced by those lethal heels when she whipped around with a
kick. If he tried to block the kick, she’d whip out a hand to lay him open.
Apparently tiring of playing with him, Marita dropped back for a brief second. Dipping her
hand inside her trench coat, she whipped out the knife. With the same motion, she stepped
back inside his guard and jammed the blade to the hilt in his crotch, and then dropped back
out. When his hands dropped to his crotch in an attempt to pull out the knife, she whipped
a pair of strong kicks out, shattering both of his shoulders.
As he sank to his knees, shrieking in agony, she grasped him by the throat and pulled him
upright. Grasping the haft of the knife, she twisted and wiggled it as she withdrew it,
snarling as his screams grew shriller and more pain filled. Wiping the blade on his shirt and
replacing it in her coat, she growled something inaudible in his ear. Thrusting him back
against the wall, she used that force to spin her full circle. Clenching her fist as she spun,
she used the impetus of the movement to add force to her punch as she smashed him in
the face.
His nose vanished in an explosion of blood. I watched in awe as the force of the blow
caused the front of his skull to partially cave, flattening his face. His shrieks of agony were
abruptly silenced as the gloves performed their deadly task. Even as his nose caved, the
blades released from their sheaths on either side of her fist. In the flash of a second, they
slid through his eyes into his brain. As she finished her blow the blades retracted. As the
thread of life was severed, he collapsed to the floor.
Turning her back on his dead or dying body, she walked over to me. Helping me to my feet,
she held me tightly while I clasped her to me as a drowning man would a life preserver.
After several minutes, she released me with a brief, passionate kiss. Smiling sadly, she
said, “Now you know.”
Reaching up, she removed the headset from me and slid it into place. Keying the mike, she
said, “Dan has been located and dealt with.” Cocking her head slightly, apparently listening
to someone on the other end, she said, “Really? He’s dead?” Listening for another minute,
she laughed. “Both? Good. We’ll meet you out front.”
With another quick kiss, she grabbed my hand. “They found Thompson in what looked like a
hospital room. Someone had shot him two or three times. They also heard a security radio
call claiming that they’d found Mr. Linderman, also dead.” Hugging me briefly before
practically ripping my hand off as she took off running, she said, “If we can get out of here,
we’re free.”
Following her as she dragged my hand through the halls at a dead run, we reached the
elevators in short order. Unfortunately, they were locked in place. Breaking open the door,
we ran down the stairs and through the abandoned lobby. Emerging through the front
doors, we found that the Plaza, unlike the building, was far from abandoned.
A quick survey showed maybe a dozen or so people scattered around. Nearby was the man
in horn rimmed glasses that I had spotted earlier. A little further away was a man, who
appeared to be of Hindi origin, trying to bandage the slightly overweight man who I had
seen board the elevator with Mr. Horn Rims. A little further around the square, I found the
blond woman and black man that had been on the elevator as well. The man had apparently
been injured, because he stood with one arm pressed tightly to his side, and the other
draped over the blonde’s shoulder. With them were two children; a girl of maybe 10 years,
and a black boy, roughly the same age, who looked familiar for some reason. In the center,
near the fountain, there stood a young man in a white shirt. I vaguely recognized him from
an old press conference as Nathan Petrelli’s brother, Peter. What was odd wasn’t that he
was standing there, but that his hands were glowing an extremely bright white and yellow.
His face as he held the hands against his chest clearly indicated that something was wrong.
Turning, he glanced near me and said, “Do it.”
Spinning around, I saw a young blonde girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, holding a gun in her
badly shaking hand. As she tried, through tear filled eyes, to steady it, Peter emphasized
what he was saying. “Do it! You’re the only one, Claire.”
Claire tried to steady the gun, and looked over the barrel, which was shaking
uncontrollably, and cried out, “Tell me there’s another way. Please!”
Peter started to turn back around, holding up his hands as if in proof. “Shoot me! There is
no other way.”
As she raised the gun again, attempting to get it steadied, a sound as of rushing wind came
in. Suddenly, the recently elected Nathan Petrelli swooped onto the pavement between
them. Raising one hand to Claire, he said, so softly I could barely make it out, “Yeas, there
is, Claire.”
Pushing the barrel to point at the ground, he said, “The future isn’t written in stone.”
Peter looked at his brother in desperation, “I took his power, Nathan.” As they turned to
face each other, he continued, “I can’t control it. I can’t do anything.”
“I’m not leaving you, Peter.” Walking over to his brother, who was getting brighter with
every moment, he said, “There’s another way to end this, and you know it.”
In a broken voice, Peter said, “I can’t let you die.”
“And I can’t let everyone else.” Turning to face the girl they’d identified as Claire, he said,
“You saved the cheerleader, so that we could save the world.”
As they stepped into an embrace, Peter said, “I love you, Nathan.”
“I love you too.”
At that moment I was briefly distracted by the arrival of the rest of our little group. “Lady,
Ishmael, Builder. You missed the drama.”
Enigmatically, she said, “Call me Angel. No, I think it’s just about to start.”
“Angel?”
“It’s my name. Watch.”
Turning back around, I watched as Nathan and Peter launched into the dark and cloudy sky.
Seconds passed in silence. Suddenly, the sky was torn apart with a silent explosion. The
Plaza was briefly lit as if it were midday by a new sun that thrust the clouds aside, and
reflected on each face that was turned up to it.
As it faded away, Mr. Horn Rims was walking past us, with an arm draped over the girl,
Claire. Briefly he looked at me before saying, “The police will be here soon. I don’t know
what you’re doing here, but you may want to be gone when they show up.”
Taking his advice, we began to walk back to our apartment. During the walk, I looked at the
Dark Lady and said, “Would you care to explain?”
Smiling lightly, she said, “The codes by which you’ve known us, and by which we’ve known
you, for the past couple months served a dual purpose. They were, as my beloved told you,
the ways in which I saw each of us in my visions. However, the other purpose they served
was safety. Since we only used the codes, nobody had a chance to overhear our proper
names and inform the Organization.”
“So, why’d you just tell me your name was Angel?”
“Because it is. The codes aren’t needed, because the event has happened, and the
Organization is no longer a problem.”
As we walked back to the apartment, laughing in relief that the apocalypse had been
avoided, we came to know each other properly. I learned that the woman I had known as
the Dark Lady was actually named Angel Callaghan. Her husband, hitherto known only as
Ishmael, was Ishmael Callaghan. Builder’s true name was Dustin Sommer. I introduced
myself, Lucius Kemp, and my fiancée, Marita de Contego. As the sirens sounded, we walked
home.
