short timers: Episode 4a

Detective Wallace Fisher sat at his new partners desk looking over the files of his new assignment.

“How long have you been chasing this guy?” He asked Detective Bowden.

“Too Long.” He said. “He’s been going strong for about three years that I can track back to. And God knows how long before that.” Jason looked haggard for a younger cop. He was already developing the hard stare of a man who’s seen too much, and can’t leave it at work. Wallace hadn’t noticed the dark look yesterday when the kid was giving him s**t, but he really hadn’t been paying too much attention either. Wallace knew that he was married, but he wondered how much longer it would last. Poor little s**t. He thought, and looked back down at the pictures.

“How has this s**t not hit the press yet?” Wallace asked.

“Not such big news anymore. He doesn’t hit celebrities, and he’s not out making demands. The department has kept a lid on things, and the FBI hasn’t made too much of a stink about it. They were going to about six months ago, but that’s about the time all the heavy hitters started dropping off. Between that and the economy, and the election... there’s not much room on the front page for serial killers anymore.”

Wallace popped a small handful of aspirin, and chased them with a cup of half warm coffee that had too much sugar in it. He understood what Jason was saying, but didn’t at the same time. He looked through the stack of folders again, seeing the faces…counting them. Seven dead. All late thirties, female, dysfunctional, attractive, divorced with a kid given to the father. Someone was very particular. Someone liked a timetable…until now.

“He’s late.” Wallace said.

“Yes he is. Unless we just haven’t found the body yet, which is a little unlikely. He’s not trying to hide his victims, they were all discovered within about twelve hours of their deaths.”

“Serial killers are never late, unless their dead. Maybe you got lucky Jason and he got hit by a car on the turnpike.” Jason was shaking his head.

“I want to see his body. You know what it’s like don’t you Fish? To just want to see the guy. To know the face of the man I’ve spent so much time looking for.” Wallace saw it in the kids face. S**t. He thought.

“When did she leave?” Wallace asked, not wanting to pry, but knowing that look when he saw it.

“About two weeks ago. We’re not gonna make it through this one either.” Jason said, looking haunted and alone.

Wallace knew what the kid was feeling, but he didn’t know what it was like to not see the face of the man he was chasing. He always got that chance, even when he didn’t want to. Except once, but that was ancient history.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this kid, but you were fighting some pretty tough odds when you got married and decided to be a cop. It’s usually one of the things we all have in common. S****y pay. A*****e hours. Prick of a boss. And at least one divorce.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.” Jason sighed heavily, and looked away from the folders laying in front of them.

Wallace just hoped the kid wasn’t too in love with her. If he was then he was in for a long road. But if he was that much in love with her, he wouldn’t be a cop.

“Bullshit.” Wallace said, and swooped up all of the files in one motion. “Let’s get the hell out of here for a minute. Let’s walk around the city for a minute and see if we can catch the scent. Kay?”

“Sounds like a plan to me. You don’t want to drive?”

“Nope. No driving.”

They left the precinct, and Wallace started to sniff. He may not be able to save the kids home life, but at least he could try to show him his killer. He’d have to break one of his rules to do it, which was usually not to show anyone else his trick, but he’d at least have the satisfaction of not seeing that hang dog look on the kids face anymore.

It was late morning, the city traffic loud and stinky. His eye’s hurt from the drinking he’d done last night with the boss. He hadn’t tied one over too hard, but between the booze and the big cement building that he couldn’t do anything about, he was tapped out when he woke this morning. Looking at seven file folders filled with the lives of dead women hadn’t helped either.

The air was cool though, and that beat the stuffiness of the precinct, with its constant chatter and electronic humming.

“So tell me what you think about this guy. You’ve studied the folders, and the lives of the vic’s. Who is he?” Wallace said, feeling the rhythm of the sidewalk beneath him. Sniffing.

The kid ran his hand through his dark hair. “Well. He’s recreating. Something from his childhood. He could be anybody but I think he’s either well off or has a steady job…”

Wallace half tuned him out. He wanted to keep Jason talking so they could keep moving. He would ask questions occasionally like, ‘Why do you think that?’ or ‘Keep going.’ just to keep the kid distracted. The trick in Wallace’s view was to not think too much about the target, and let the mind just sort of attach to it. A person could do it with anything, not just killer’s and crooks you were looking for, but everyday things like car keys and lost wallets. The more a person thought about these things, the more a person would be drawn away from the actual target. If, however, you just let your mind attach to it, to the scent of it, your body would just gravitate to it. But Wallace was talented at it, and not everyone else seemed to carry the trait. He’d tried to show the trick to his ex-wife once, but all she could seem to gravitate to was other men.

“…He seems to find pleasure in the act, but shame in the end.” Jason continued on as they walked first one block, then three, then ten blocks away from the precinct. Wallace knew he could go on like this all day, the kid was so focused on the case.

“Yeah they often are.” Wallace responded absently. He didn’t notice until they were halfway there, that he was walking the same path that he’d walked just the day before. It didn’t surprise him too much, considering they were headed towards low town. But, this didn’t fit the bill for a usual low town killing. His eyebrows pinched together, and he concentrated hard on the feel of the killer that Jason was describing.

“Hey fish, where are we going anyway?” Jason asked.

“Nowhere. Just a little beer bar I know. I’d like to grab some lunch, and it’s better than having to deal with the reporters that usually haunt the places close to the precinct digging for a story.” That was a smooth excuse, and often true, but Wallace had a little alarm going off in his head. He knew where Jason’s serial killer was. He could feel it from this distance. Like a walk downhill, his feet just wanted to go there.

Wallace looked around for a random bar, or restaurant, that they could duck into and get him off the path. He found one, a little dive called Cherry’s that Wallace had never been to before.

“You hang out at this place?” Jason asked, trying unsuccessfully to mask the modest disgust in his voice.

“I don’t ‘hang out’ here kid, I eat lunch here every once in awhile.” Wallace lied.

They stepped inside to an empty place except for two rough looking over weight men sitting on stools at the bar. The place was dingy and smelled of thick grease and vinegar. Somebody must have been trying to clean coffee pots.

“Ok, suddenly I’m not so hungry.” Wallace said. The waitress behind the bar, chewing heavily on a piece of bubblegum, looked the two over and her eyebrows pinched together. “Got anything on the menu that won’t f**k me up this time?” He asked. He saw a large man, with the head that looked like a buffalo, back behind the greasy ledge of the warming station look up from whatever food he was attempting to cook.

“Hey f**k you too flat foot. Get the hell outta my shop.” He hollered out.

“Yeah no problem grease ball, just don’t make me call the health department huh?” Wallace called back.

“Hey we’re clean here!” The buffalo head barked back. “The f**k outta here!”

The two detectives walked back outside and stood there looking down the street.

“Well that didn’t work.” Wallace said.

“Yeah no s**t.” Jason replied. “Don’t bullshit me Fish. I watched you the whole time we were walking down here. And I know your history. What do you know?”

Wallace sighed. S**t. He thought. So much for pointing the kid in the right direction and leaving him to it. “Alright, I’ll tell you. But keep your trap shut about it, and don’t ask stupid questions about it. I know what I know, and that’s the end to it. Got it?”

“Yeah I got it.” Jason looked around the street. “So now what?”

“Let’s go get something to eat, but call a cab. And take us somewhere a little closer to the precinct. At least there won’t be any cockroaches in the food there.” He said, looking for a bus bench to wait.

“You’re a piece of work Fish. I got a better idea though...” Jason pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and did a speed dial.

After a short conversation, and about a five minute wait, a patrol car pulled up and parked next to them on the street. Jason got up and opened the back door for Wallace. Wallace stared at him for a second, and shook his head. A pretty blonde cop was in the front seat driving the cruiser, she looked new, and she looked like she was impressed with Jason. Jason winked at Wallace, and got in the front seat.

You’re getting old Fish. He thought to himself, and got in the back of the cruiser.  

“I hope to Christ your soon to be ex isn’t a lawyer.” Wallace said, as Jason leaned over and nuzzled the blonde’s neck. She gave a little giggle and backhanded the young detective in the chest with enough force to make him grunt.

“Nope, she works with the coroner and see’s more dead bodies that I do, and works worse hours.”

“Lucky you.” Wallace said. “So you really getting a divorce? Or was that bullshit too?”

“Yeah we split. But it’s a mutual thing. Neither of us want anything from each other ’cept permanent space away from each other. No harm no foul.” Jason said, with all seriousness. Wallace was bothered that he hadn’t picked up on Jason’s earlier line of horseshit in the first place, but he’d been distracted.  

“Hope you like Italian.” The blonde said, and stepped on the gas.

“Whatever. So long as I don’t have to pay.” Wallace said. Jason laughed.

Morgan and his group of Short Timer’s sat in a circle on the floor of the gymnasium chatting casually both telepathically and verbally. The tension had lifted, a gap had been closed between their alpha personalities and communication flowed freely. He looked around at his people, seeing them from a different light, and understanding his responsibility to tell them the truth.

“Ok everyone, I’d like to speak to you about what our plans are for the next few weeks.” He paused, and got up to his knees. “Antonio Papa Vincent is dead as you all know, and most of the East Coast Syndicate is in hiding. It’s not likely that we’ll see any direct threat from the Sicilians for awhile, but the other minor groups probably still need some convincing.”

Ed groaned. “We’re not going on a gangster hunt are we?” He had enjoyed, maybe a little too much, the action that he saw with the harder lieutenants of Vincent’s army. When they’d first begun the program Ed and Jimmy had spent a few weeks hitting some of the gangster chapters of the syndicate, and neither one had been too impressed with the jobs. The gangsters had been soft and disorganized and didn’t represent much of a challenge. Wasn’t like the movies where all the guys were big and tough and well armed. Mostly they were skinny, drugged out, f**k ups that couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn with the piece of s**t .22’s that they carried with them.

“No. No gangsters. What we’re preparing for now is an opportunistic rival to come in and try to set up shop where Vincent has left a hole. It’s likely that the other foreign syndicates will try to move in. That’ll include the Russians, and probably the Irish. The plan is that we will systematically wipe out any under boss or lieutenant that tries to come in and refresh old ties, or create new ones.” Morgan said, giving his honest beliefs on the matter. “The hope is they won’t waste their time bringing in the dregs, they’ll come with their experienced group. I think we have the opportunity to bring down more than just one group of dips s***s.”

“Some of them will, maybe. But not all of them. Some of their leaders are smarter than you might think Morgan. They’ll hang back until the bodies quit piling up.” Stella said. Ed was nodding his head in agreement.

“I know. But there is little we can do about the smart ones…yet.” That got a few raised eyebrows.

“Morgan.” Jimmy this time. His hard eyes were still red rimmed from the laughing fit, the way he sat on the floor, one knee in the air with his elbow resting on it, a small dark blue tattoo peeked up from the collar of his suit. Everyone knew of his IRA origins, but everyone knew that they’d betrayed him long ago. He was a free agent when Morgan met him. A very talented mercenary working for the highest bidder, which was invariably the U.S. government. “I love this, ‘cleaning up the city’ bit that we’re doin. I really do. I wish we could be in Dublin and we’d have a grand f****n’ time for sure. But, what’s the long term plan here? We know that they’ll be back. They’ll always be back. We can’t be here for f****n’ ever. Eventually someone’s gonna get wise to our little hide out, and then we’re fucked.” Jimmy’s was good at stating his mind. A quality that Morgan enjoyed completely. Between the man’s street wisdom, and keen eye for traps and setups, he was a perfect mission planner. Morgan had used his perspectives many times when he set up missions against the mob. City fighting was never easy, even when you had the advantages, but that was where Jimmy was a genius. Now as a Short Timer, as well as before when he was a gun for hire.

Morgan was quiet for a moment. He knew he was taking a risk with what he was about to tell them, but he felt it was necessary to give them the truth. His truth.

“Yeah, that’s true. They will be back, and we can’t hide out here forever. I feel that I owe all of you an explanation as to why I’ve chosen to hammer on the crime syndicate’s so hard here. In all honesty most of it has to do with my own personal history, and a deep personal vendetta.” He said. They were all quiet, and curious. Some of them knew parts of his personal history, but none of them knew the full depth of it.

He explained to them his involvement with the NSA and Homeland security a few years ago when he was placed on an assignment to infiltrate and shuttle information about the syndicates involvement with terrorist organizations. He laid out, in detail, the scope of his work there. Which was administrative at worst. He’d been looking for the retirement job. Something that would allow him to spend time with his family. When he was burned, and the Mexican mafia came in and slaughtered his family and burned his home, Morgan slipped into secrecy, but set about discovering a way to bring down the authors of his devastated life. All authors. From the East Coast Syndicate, to the Mexican drug cartels, to the politicians who turned a blind eye. He let them have it all. And he sent them some of the mental images that never let him sleep, even before the procedure when he could sleep.

“I’ve involved you all in my own personal vendetta against the people who took my life from me.” He paused briefly and continued on. “I can’t offer you anything more than the opportunity to settle your own scores where they lie. As I have placed you all in harm’s way for my own devices, you can be assured that I will help you in any way I can to achieve your purposes, each in turn or all together.” He looked at Jimmy specifically. “And no, my friend, we won’t be here forever. From my timetable I believe that we have perhaps another three to six months of safety before someone narrows down our location, and we get rooted out.”

“Three to six, isn’t a very long time Morgan.” Stella said. “We all need the infusions to survive. Can we expect the entire complex to relocate?”

“No.” He replied. “We are working on that at the moment.” He looked at Jance. “I’m certain that we can come up with something that will allow us to move from this facility, and be a little more ‘free range’.” He addressed everyone again. “But that leaves another problem to face. If we’re successful in our search for a more mobile infusion capacity, I need to know that I can trust that we will stick together as a group. This is a personal decision that all of us will have to come to terms with. When the group first began we put a contingency in place, as a security measure. Each one of us has implanted within our heads, a small explosive device that would mean instant death to anyone who tried to run. Or in the case of some of the earlier experiments, if people went mad from the alterations. Please understand that this was not intended to be used as a threat, to coerce your staying in the group. However, for the safety of all, it was decided that we’d have this device.”

“Who has control of this thing?” Jimmy asked. “And how many of people know about it.” He was clearly shaken, and obviously upset. Stella and Ed stared at Morgan with looks of shock and anger. Tsang’s face was blank and unreadable. Jance looked a little sick.

“Only three people know about it, Dr. Clay, Dr. Marcus, and myself. But I’m the only one who has control.” He pulled a small device from a pocket by his waist and showed it too the group. “This detonator, with my authorization only, would cause the device to fire.”

He gently placed the detonator on the floor in front of him, and slammed his fist into it. It shattered into three pieces.

“Is that the only one?” Tsang asked.

“Yes. You have my word.”

“Why would you do that?” Stella asked. “You didn’t have to tell us that thing existed, and you certainly didn’t have to tell us that you could have killed us at any time if we didn’t behave.”

“I did that so that you can know, and trust, that even if the need was there, that I couldn’t pull the trigger on any of you.” He looked at Stella and grinned. “Even you. You smart a*s little s**t.”

“Aw for f**k sakes!” Jimmy said. He looked at the pieces, and looked back at Morgan. “What’s the ace in the hole Morgan?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s your insurance policy? Against any one of us, walking out of the door right now, exposing the technology and training to one of your many enemies?” Jance said. He looked hollowed out, and wary.

Morgan looked at him, carefully, and exposed. “Hope.” He gave them all a tired grin. “And trust.”

After several minutes of silence, the unasked question that weighed on Morgan’s mind was answered. None of the Short Timer’s moved.

“Thank you all.” He said. “You have my word that I will respect your decision to stick with me.”

“You f****n’ bloody well better, Morgan.” Jimmy said, a sideways grin crossed his thin lips. “Cause otherwise I’ll kick your f****n’ arse.”

Morgan looked at Jimmy and winked. “You could try.” He said. “But we’ll get to that later.”

Jimmy’s eyebrows shot up, and he grinned.

“In the meantime, there’s some other information that we need to get through.” He looked at each one of them. “But really. Everyone. Thank you.”

He bowed his head to the circle of people around him, and straightened up. They all bowed back, Jance a little slower as he seemed uncertain of what was going on.

“Jesus f****n Christ.” Jimmy said. “Where’s the beer when you really need it?” This brought a chuckle from everyone.

“Tsang and I have something to show you. And it’ll be easier if we really show you. Get into the Field, we’ve got something new happening upstairs, and I need everyone’s advice on how to proceed.”

“Seriously?” Jance asked. Still looking a little hollow.

Tsang answered for Morgan. “Seriously.”

Everyone in the group responded to the Field differently. And getting everyone on the same page took a little work. Jimmy in particular had a difficult time. He was extremely good at keeping his head in the real world, and in order for him to expand his awareness to encompass more than what he could touch with his fingers was a challenge for him, as well as the other Short Timers. At one point, he became frustrated, and almost lost his ability to use telepathy until he calmed down again. He didn’t like to be at the back of the class for any reason. But with some calm coaching from Morgan, with little interjections from both Jance and Tsang, he got the hang of it, and joined them all in the weird world of the Field.

It’s like, an acid trip on a roller coaster. He said at one point, causing another round of chuckles from the group.

Put your arms up, it feels better. Stella said.

Eh? F**k off, how bout that? He responded. I’m just getting used to this, so the rest of you over achieving b******s have a good time. I’m gonna stick close enough to the shore that I can swim back if one of you fuckers decides to wreck this ship into a f****n mountain. Eh?

All right, knock it off Jimmy. Morgan said, still smiling. We’ll make sure that you get all the information you need, but get used to this trick. We’re gonna be using it a lot more in the future.

What made Jimmy so nervous, was not so much that they were breaking some rules that were tried, tested, and true for him; but that everyone else in the room was so calm about what they were doing. But what he saw, behind his closed eyelids was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen before in his life. And that included the teenage acid trips. Far out, dude. Didn’t even begin to describe what he was feeling.

Have all of you been able to do this the whole time? He asked. Everyone, except Tsang, shook their heads. They were all experiencing this for the first time.

So…What are we looking at here? Stella asked.

If someone were to be standing outside of the circle of Short Timers in the gymnasium, they would see six people sitting cross legged, with their eyes closed, seeming to be in a meditative state. Everyone breathed calm and normal, relaxed but somehow energetically tensed and aware.

But in the Field, the sight was far different.

Each individual glowed brightly, but they were semi-translucent. Like figures made of glass containing a powerful point of light within their centers.

What you are seeing, is my representation of the group of us within the Field. Tsang said. All of this realm, that you witness now is based on my own mental interpretations. My mythology. Each of us, in my view, hold within us a brilliant point of light that represents our spiritual energy that guides the form we take. I have left the figures blank in order to illustrate this point. Were I to fill in the blanks, each one of us would have a psychological representation based on what I perceive as representative of the individuals.

For everyone in the room it was strange to hear Tsang speak this way. He’d shared no more than five words back and forth with Ed and Jimmy since coming into the group, until this point. Stella he’d shared none. Their communication had consisted of nods and blank looks until now. But the strange choppiness to his mental language had a pleasant appeal to them, and all were quickly drawn into his speech. He was a good teacher, and was careful not to throw in too much of his Zen training to avoid confusing everyone with words that had no meaning to them. He thought it would be better to describe the world they now visited in a more scientific and psychological aspect, rather than the spiritual language of Zen.

They were essentially floating in large graceful clouds, with a sky that was brilliant with color. Like a sunset through a mist. There was a deep vibration all around them, like the slow rumble of glaciers moving down a mountain. The feeling that pervaded the space was openness, hanging from the clouds in the wide system of the limitless sky. The more each individual relaxed into Tsang’s realm, the more they felt the deep presence of him here. They smelled what he smelled, saw what he saw, and heard what he heard, through a frighteningly simple connection of feel.

Good lord. Ed said. I’m glad I’m not afraid of heights.

They all looked down. Beneath their floating glassy shapes was the ocean, beautifully glinting sunlight off of wave crests that looked miles away.

S**t. Jance said. I AM afraid of heights.

Tsang smiled, and brought them closer to the earth. They were just above the highest peak of a mountain range covered in brilliant snow. The air still glowed in bright colors of firelight. But not so far beneath them they saw the brown cast of ancient stone, and further, the deep green of a beautiful forest surrounding a small lake that gleamed in reflected sunlight.

This is all very beautiful Tsang. Stella said. For the first time, showing an appreciation for Tsang.

I agree. But, my friend, I’d like to keep on track. Morgan said, trying as gently as he could to steer them back to what they’d come here to do. We can explore these abilities more later, but for now we need to get some work done.

Spoilsport. Ed said.

…Jesus… Was all Jimmy could say. The group looked at him, and all could tell he was spellbound by what he saw.

Ok, Tsang said. He was glad to change the subject. This deep world had been his alone for many years. This was his sanctuary from a life, that for most Japanese, was an absolute necessity. It was a world of space, far from the cramped confines of his youth. It felt strange to share it with anyone. It represented his last and most private sense of spirit. He could have brought them to some other place, and why he didn’t he wasn’t sure, but with his new friends he was somehow inexplicably compelled to trust.

Take us back into your memory of our meeting with Dr. Marcus. Morgan Said. I think they need to see that.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the members of the group to realize how aware Tsang was. In the memory of the meeting, he had almost every detail of the room set in place. They could literally feel the tightness of the room, and the carpet beneath their feet. The dimness, intended to be a courtesy to their sensitive eyes, added a sense of malice and gloom.

Try to remain as calm as you can through this please. Tsang said. They could all feel his and Morgan’s tension through the ether as Tsang replayed the memory.

Morgan and Tsang took positions behind themselves where they sat at the table confronting Dr. Marcus. The rest of the group stood behind them in a half circle facing the doctor and the window behind him.

They saw the vision of the girl sliding out of the pitch black behind the doctor in the window. She looked like some crucified ghost, coming forward at a steady unnerving speed. Her head twitched from side to side and they saw the flash of her teeth clicking behind the curtain of yellow hair.

They were all startled into taking a step back, at the exact moment that in the memory Tsang and Morgan leapt from their chairs and Dr. Marcus fell back with his eyes wide and frightened and his hand clawing at his chest.

F**k! Jimmy shouted, when the blonde girl struck the glass.

Shhh. Morgan hissed. We’re just getting started.

They all watched the events pass with fascinated silence. In the strange realm of the Field, they all bore witness to the argument with Dr. Clay, the healing of Dr. Marcus, and the confrontation with the Medusa like demon with the falcon. They all saw the projection of Tsang’s samurai strike the Gorgon’s face with his glowing blade. Each recorded the memory within their own minds, forming their thoughts and judgments silently. But, for certain, they all learned a new and deeper respect for the Yakuza warrior who guided them. The memory finished, and Tsang guided them back to the gymnasium where there bodies sat waiting their return.

That was…disturbing. Jance said.

No s**t. From Ed. How was the girl moving like that? She wasn’t making the movements. She was a puppet. And who the hell are those two?

Morgan sighed. I don’t know. But, I assume that you all know, that those are to be the next Short Timers to join our group when they recover.

Bullshit. Stella Said. You should have killed the guy. The girl I’m fine with, it’d be nice to know that I’m not the only one who has to sit to pee. But the guy has to go.

They all agreed, except Jance.

I hate to play devil’s advocate here, but I think the guy can be useful. Do we even know his name, by the way?

No. Morgan said. From what Anthony told me, this guy had multiple identities in his life before being Short Timed. From their explanation he was intended to be added to the group to help out with our abilities to be hidden in plain sight.

We’re doing that now though aren’t we? Jimmy said. We don’t need that f****r givin’ us a f****n thing.

I agree. Morgan said. As you could see, I had no knowledge of his existence until I saw him in the recovery room. But Jance, how do you think he can be useful? He asked, they all looked at the younger man.

Look, I’m playing a hunch here. He said. But I think he was the one moving the girl. It was just the impression that I got. What if we can learn telekinesis from him? He asked everyone.

Why would we need it? Asked Stella. She didn’t like the stranger, he emanated a type of menace that she hadn’t felt for a very long time. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone but herself, and even then only grudgingly, the strange man scared her and he wasn’t even conscious.

Just bear with me for a moment. Jance said. I’m just as creeped out as you guys are too, but damn. Telekinesis! That would be incredible. The emotion passed through the telepathic link came to all of them. He sounded almost giddy.

Jance. Morgan said. I can understand your curiosity and excitement, but look at this through a different set of eyes. What if the telekinesis is caused by insanity? Can we be certain that we can control him once he becomes conscious? And if we can’t, how do we stop him?

I understand Morgan, and I’m not saying that the possibility outweighs the risk. Jance replied. But to counter your argument; didn’t you run the same risk with all of us when we underwent the procedure?

True. Morgan said. But, just a few minutes ago, I destroyed my one insurance policy against any of you becoming out of control.

Stella chimed in. Jance, you can figure out telekinesis by yourself, you’re already damn close. Or did you forget the other evening at the pier?

Jance blushed a little. No I didn’t forget. But look, I wasn’t aware of the effect I was having, and I don’t think I could do it again.

Bullshit. Stella said. Jance was quiet, still blushing.

Alright, calm down. Morgan said. For now, he lives. I’ll agree that telekinesis could be a very interesting tool to have at our disposal. However. Jance, I want you doing whatever you can to try to discover it before that guy wakes up. I think Tsang’s strike probably set him back a few weeks in recovery time, but that’s just a hunch. I’ll talk to Anthony and see if we can extend the amount of time he stays under. But understand this, everyone, if he wakes up pissy we need to be prepared to take him out. All of you are now my insurance policy. And guard your thoughts. If he can do telekinesis while his body is comatose, there’s no telling what else he can do. Agreed?

They all agreed.

Now. Morgan said. We need to address something else. He looked at Tsang, whose face was unreadable. Tsang looked back at him, and without any need to speak to convey the meaning, nodded once to Morgan. For whatever reason the scar was very prominent on Tsangs face.

I mentioned before that we are going to hit any opportunistic crime groups that want to move in on the city. Well. We’re going to try to manipulate that, so that we know who’s coming and when. But, I’m going to leave the details to Tsang to explain.

This statement caused both Ed and Jimmy to raise their eyebrows in mild surprise. Morgan had really changed his tactics with regards to leadership. He was allowing others to take the lead, this was not his usual behavior. Morgan ignored their looks, and turned his attention to Tsang.

Tsang began without preamble. You all know that I was once a Yakuza. He looked at each of them. I have reason to believe that they will make a try for the East Coast.

Ed chimed in. Why? I thought the Yakuza were more comfortable on the West Coast, where they could be in closer contact with Japan, and the Far East crime syndicates. I didn’t think they had much interest in eastern seaboard.

This is true. Tsang said. In the past they haven’t been to concerned with the East Coast. They’ve had dealings with the syndicate before, but nothing that would be considered a lasting partnership. They didn’t like working with Vincent, so they would usually steer clear of his territory unless there was direct need.

But now that Vincent is dead, and his regime crippled, they will move in. He continued.

How do you know this Tsang? Stella asked.

Because I made a phone call, just before we went to Vincent’s tower, and told an old adversary that the East Coast was soon to become fertile ground to those willing to move fast.

So you’re bringing in the Yakuza? Jance asked. Tsang nodded.

But not just any Yakuza. He said. I’m bringing in my brother, and his chapter. They have already sent a few people ahead to check the area I’m certain.

Ed closed his eyes, and winced. And who’s your brother? Asking the question, but already knowing the answer.

Tsang replied. Kazuma.

Ah Christ. Ed said.

What? Jance said. He could tell by the look on Ed and Stella’s faces it was bad.

Tsang, I know he’s your brother and all. But do we really want to invite the ‘Blood Dragon’ onto our doorstep? She asked.

Tsang was shaking his head, smiling lightly. Is that what they call him now? He asked. That must annoy him greatly. He said, chuckling at his own inner joke.

He went on to explain in detail his plan for his older brother. It would take a long time to make everyone understand the principle behind his actions, but their part in the meeting with Kazuma would be brief, and not much different than what they were accustomed to doing now. But it required their trust, which despite Morgan’s ability to do so, the others were not quite so willing to oblige. They had many questions, which he answered with respect and honesty. After awhile, they all agreed to be part of the plan.

After their meeting was finished, the Short Timer’s practiced with their new weapons, and worked with each other using the field. By the time they were done, they were all exhausted mentally and physically. They’d covered a lot of ground, and knew that they would need to cover more to be fully prepared for their next set of missions. It was time to rest, which they did as best they could with meditation and study. Jance and Ed agreed that they would work with each other on the problem of the telekinesis, and Tsang agreed to work with each of them on martial arts techniques and Field techniques. Morgan and Jimmy would team up to get Jimmy more used to working with the Field, and Stella would work with Ed and Jance to help with their stealth techniques. The problem of the Fifth floor was put on hold until either one of the new Short Timers woke up and needed to be dealt with.

It had occurred to Morgan that among the Short Timers, there was far more agreement than disagreement. It baffled him that so many alpha mentalities could be so agreeable. He wondered if it was due to the treatment itself, or the targets they run down. Either way, he wondered how long the peace would last. He felt that any leadership system needed to understand how to deal with dispute in order to be successful. He no longer held any leverage over the strong personalities he lead, he’d just given up an ace in the hole in order to show trust in hopes of receiving it in return. He was too cynical to believe that they were all as complacent with him as they made out. But that was balanced with the understanding that there was little he could do about it. He was walking in uncharted territory, and with no comparison with which to judge his actions against, all he could really do was go with the flow. The inner battle between his former training, and current experimentation was as epic as the war of Troy. He’d broken so many of his old rules, that by now he wondered if he really had any left.

Ed and Stella walked towards their rooms, side by side in silence. They both had questions that needed to be voiced, about the new target, and their leader.

Ed. She said. Come with me to my room.

Not a question.

Sure. He said, a sudden shock of nervousness filled him. Man what is wrong with you? He thought to himself, being extremely careful to hide the thought. Stella carried herself with ultra confidence, that through some discussion with Jance, he’d decided was a bit of an over compensation. A psychological carry over from some mental or emotional trauma. This wasn’t a hard judgment, because Ed believed that everyone had carry over’s, that was what made individuality in many cases. How many people he’d met that based their lives on the anger of opposition, or the guilt of unrealized expectations, inflicted by an early formative system. Mommy and Daddy syndrome, or even the lack thereof. How many people he’d met, that lived in mourning of their childhood ghosts and operated as exorcists of the demons that drove them.

Are you psychoanalyzing me in your head? She asked. Looking at him with a sideways grin.

Uh…not really. S**t…Yes. He responded. Don’t be offended, cause your doing it to me too. He said, returning the grin.

Oh I don’t know. It’s a little tough to psychoanalyze a jar head.

Ed laughed, trying to break the nervousness that he felt.

They arrived at her door, and she passed her wrist over the scanner. They went inside. Ed didn’t bother snooping around, because there was nothing to snoop. The room was just as bare as his was.

Jarheads might be a little more complicated than you think. He walked over and planted himself on the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. So what can I do for you Stella?

Hang on just a sec. She said. I gotta get outta this suit.

Uh…ok. She was f*****g with him. And doing a very good job of keeping him nervous.

She stripped quickly, tossing the suit back in the inset closet where it would be cleaned later in the day. Her skin was milky white, glowing in the darkness of the room. Every muscle in her body was defined, and veins stood out on her arms like little rivulets of water frozen under her skin. Despite her ultra toned body- the signature look of all the Short Timers- she still held the shape and form of a beautiful woman. The sway of her lower back formed nicely to her hips. She held her shoulders back and her breasts, though small were graceful and beautiful. She shook her head as he looked over her body.

Very nice. He said. Trying to act calm, as a shot went through his body of pure instinctual excitement.

I think I should have had them done. She said, looking down at her chest.

Jesus. Ed thought, still being very careful that his thoughts were his own. I don’t think you would have been happy with the result, especially in our line of work.

She had turned to face him, the slight shadowing on her soft skin accentuating the lines of her definition. His eyes drank in her body, as she didn’t seem to have any inhibitions. He shook his head and sighed.

Girl! Are you trying to drive me up the wall? He asked. She gave him a wicked grin in return.

Maybe just a little. She said. Alright, I’ll behave myself. She bent over at the waist and opened a drawer next to her suit closet and pulled out a pair of gray scrubs. Watching her pull on her clothes was pleasant and painful at the same time, though Ed couldn’t imagine how he could hold an intelligible conversation with the woman should she persist in being naked. As it was he wasn’t sure if he could now. He was very thankful for his armor plated suit at the moment, his physical reaction to seeing her naked and unashamed in front of him, made for a very uncomfortable sitting position.

So, let me ask again; what can I do for you Stella? He was desperate to try to change the subject.

Stella sat down in her desk chair opposite of him, she propped one foot beneath her and wrapped an arm around her folded leg.

What do you think about how things are headed? With Kazuma I mean.

He shook his head. I don’t know. He admitted. But I know that I’m not entirely comfortable with it either. The Yakuza that I’ve met in my life were impressive enough to be cautious about, and I’ve heard that he has the best fighters in the world working for him.

It’s worse than you think Ed. Stella got serious very quickly. He’s very old school, and his men are fanatics. I did some work for them a few years ago, and had a very brief glimpse of Kazuma and his ‘honor guard’. Ed, these guys are mean. They walk like you and Morgan do. They’re not your standard arrogant mobsters, these guys are soldiers. There’s no way they won’t think something’s up with Tsang’s invitation to take over the east coast.

I know. But, I do think that Tsang’s plan will work. He said. His eyes kept wanting to look down to her beautifully curved butt, where the scrubs were pulled tight against her flesh. Goddamn it man! He thought to himself, hating the inner battle he was having.

Ed, Tsang’s plan isn’t a plan. It’s a call out. We both know that. Tsang knows it too. And for goddamn sure Kazuma knows it.

Ed sighed. I know that too. But you heard the plan, and had a chance to smell a rat during the whole conversation. Did you get any signs that it wouldn’t go the way he described it? Did you get a sense that he was bullshitting any of us?

No. She said, resting her chin on her knee and tilting her head to the side.

Me either. He said. The entire time they had been speaking Ed hadn’t moved an inch.

Now considering what we know about Tsang, which isn’t much other than the fact that he does exist, which is far more than the U.S. government has been able to prove for hell sakes. Is that in order for him to have survived as long as he has, he can’t be stupid. And his planning, up to this point, as far as we know, has been flawless. All we can do is go with it, and see where this leads. What is it that you’re worried about?

She sighed. What if Tsang doesn’t want to survive the meeting with his brother?

Why wouldn’t he want to survive?

Because he’s Japanese. Old school Japanese. Honor, debt, family…these are things they take very seriously. She said.

How do you know? He asked, carefully measuring the words with real curiosity so that she wouldn’t sense any attitude with the statement. She took the question well, but responded hard.

The same way you know what my a*s looks like Ed. You’ve seen it. He flushed at the statement. The girl refused to pull her punches. Fine.

Alright. He said. I respect your concern with the Yakuza. I also know that you don’t trust Tsang. What do you want me to say? That I’m completely confident that we’re gonna be able to walk into Tsang’s meeting with his brother and then walk back out in one piece? Well I’m not gonna say that. But, I will say that of any group that I’ve ever worked with we’ve probably got the best shot against Kazuma and his personal guard as anyone. There can’t be any more assurances than that from anyone other than a completely deluded idiot.

She measured him with an interested defiant stare. Wow. She said. I guess you are more complicated than I thought. Her eyes glinted silver in the dim lights.

So what’s it going to take for you to start trusting the people that you’re probably going to spend the rest of your life with? He asked.

Nothing short of a miracle Ed. I don’t trust. I haven’t been able to afford to, and there’s no reason that I should have to now. I’ll play the game the same way everyone else does, but I’m always going to have some difficulty trusting anyone.

Ed was quiet for a moment, deciding how much he wanted to get into playing psychologist for this deadly but slightly damaged woman. He liked her, even without the peep show. But, involving himself in the black waters of the woman’s psychology would probably lead him to a bloody and painful death.

He got up from the bed, deciding that he needed to go spend some time alone.

I can agree with your concerns Stella, and that’s no bullshit either…

He paused at the door, it opened automatically when it sensed him standing there.

...But I’ve gotta ask you: What in this world do you have to lose?

He left her room. The door closed automatically behind him. He could feel her mild irritation at him, mixed with curiosity. But neither of those impressions could mask the anger and the fear she felt. Not a good day for psychoanalysis he thought, again burying the thought deep within his mind to keep it hidden. Maybe later, when there isn’t quite so much to worry about already. But he wondered if and when that day would come.

Stella couldn’t answer his question, at least and maintain her honesty with herself. She knew that, and was fairly certain that Ed knew it as well.

She was alone in her room again, the silence swallowed her whole. The darkness of her past swirled before her as she contemplated the possibilities of her very near future. She was drawn to enjoy the company of her new friends, but in that curiosity the deeper defensive side of her wanted to hide. To sit in a corner with her teeth bared, daring someone to ask her what was wrong so that she could leap from the corner and rip their throat out. It was a side of her that she didn’t understand, but was a known quantity. She wondered now, under the strange tutelage of these remarkably personable monsters, if she could exorcise the damned creature that had ruled her for so long. She wondered if the part of her that wanted it to go would survive the breaking.

She rolled her eyes at herself, and turned her attention to the console. She’d thought of a poem, just a couple snippets of language as they were in their meeting. She knew that she wouldn’t forget them, but she wrote them down anyway out of habit.

‘Ice beneath stone,

Melts by hidden heat.

Pressure. Unseen Friction.

The Devil rolls in his bed.

And none survive the yawn as he wakes,

Beneath the ice beneath the stone.’

Morgan’s eye’s were the Ice. His mind the stone. His intensity had quieted for some unknown reason. But Stella felt a shifting beneath his surfaces, and she didn’t trust what it could mean for them.

But Ed was perfectly correct in the assumption hidden by his unanswered question: What did she have to lose? And probably more importantly, what could it possibly hurt to show her strong and intense leader some faith? Did it really matter whether she trusted him, or any of them, at all?

She decided it didn’t, but she knew it would be a long time to coach the shattered little girl hiding beneath the bed of her psychology out into the light. Not without loosing something tender to the little girls terribly sharp teeth. Wild girls sometimes like to stay wild. And this one was comfortable under there, hissing at the shadows, and clawing at the ankles of her exposed thoughts, waiting for the worst possible moment to trip her up and send her to the floor.