Post by Christian Moynahan on Jan 9, 2014 21:53:41 GMT -5
I know it was destined to go wrong
You were looking for the great escape
To chase your demons away
-Within Temptation, “Forgiven”
Alain Jensen
Ark Industries HQ
Ark Industries HQ
There was no news. Nothing on television or the Internet showed anything unusual. Of that they were certain. Fallon knew how it was done. They had every news channel, every news blog, several Twitter hashtags, anything that might have something to do with Washington, D.C. or Christian Moynahan. There was nothing, except the occasional mention of his trial or something he had done in San Diego or something to do with high heels in Richmond. Nothing current. Fallon was watching all of the screens with a poorly hidden sense of anxiety.
So was Alain. He was acting under direct orders. The other two public relations specialists had made it to their terminal points just fine. Of Christian they had heard nothing. Alain was waiting for his phone to buzz. Hopefully there would be only one buzz.
One buzz means everything is fine.
Alain could see Christian’s expression, hear his tone. Not much time had passed since it happened. A minute, maybe two. Or so Alain thought. It could have been an hour and Alain would not have known any different.
There had been job after job, but in this case, Alain actually cared about his boss. They saw the same things; they shared a line of thought. Science was paramount. The pursuit of knowledge was everything. They had developed Project Dreamscape; it had been Christian’s brainchild, Christian’s masterpiece, or at least a testament to his craftsmanship. Alain had stood with him and monitored that project, and was proud of its success. They had other projects planned as well. The world was truly theirs. There was too much at stake for Christian to risk himself.
There had been no buzzes so far. Alain checked his phone to make sure its volume and vibrate function were both on. They were and they had been.
Two buzzes, cover the shadow.
Apparently, Maurelle Lacroix was fine.
Three buzzes, protect the princesses.
Alice Taylor and her daughter must be fine too.
Four buzzes, call a complete lockdown at Ark and follow the safety procedures.
They seemed to be safe too, so far.
A few minutes had passed now.
What did no buzzes mean?
“Alain.” There was a quiver in Fallon’s voice. The teleporter looked over Fallon’s shoulder.
Twitter had picked it up first, on the DC hashtag. “Anyone else in #DC hear that noise?” “Explosion in #DC? That wuz loud as fuck.” “They must be testing nukes in #DC or something.” “I thought this was a no fly zone or somethin? What was that? #DC.”
“Coincidence,” someone behind him said. “It’s gotta be a coincidence.”
Alain knew better. The news channels were picking up on it now, sending journalists to the site, while sending helicopters and the like to get great coverage. Fallon was shaking.
“Stay here,” Alain instructed. “I’ll check it out and report back.”
Before anyone could complain, Alain blinked out of the room. He reformed in Washington, instantly catching the smell of smoke, and following it to its source. There were a few regular EMTs moving back to their posts, but, otherwise, no sign of anything amiss. He stopped one of the EMTs. “Where did they take him?”
“I don’t know,” the EMT answered. Alain studied the young man. Truth.
Another study. Altered truth.
Alain let the EMT go on his way and pulled out his cell phone. The call was not to Fallon. When the man answered, Alain got straight to the point. “I need Christian’s current location.”
It took some time. Gabriel could find anyone alive and not mentally compromised, but, wherever he was, Christian was unconscious, dancing on the line of life and death. But Gabriel had every reason to be persistent, and he was; he finally nailed the man’s location, and Alain followed that call with a text to Fallon.
About as bad as it gets. Jung.
Alain slipped the phone back into his pocket and disappeared.
So was Alain. He was acting under direct orders. The other two public relations specialists had made it to their terminal points just fine. Of Christian they had heard nothing. Alain was waiting for his phone to buzz. Hopefully there would be only one buzz.
One buzz means everything is fine.
Alain could see Christian’s expression, hear his tone. Not much time had passed since it happened. A minute, maybe two. Or so Alain thought. It could have been an hour and Alain would not have known any different.
There had been job after job, but in this case, Alain actually cared about his boss. They saw the same things; they shared a line of thought. Science was paramount. The pursuit of knowledge was everything. They had developed Project Dreamscape; it had been Christian’s brainchild, Christian’s masterpiece, or at least a testament to his craftsmanship. Alain had stood with him and monitored that project, and was proud of its success. They had other projects planned as well. The world was truly theirs. There was too much at stake for Christian to risk himself.
There had been no buzzes so far. Alain checked his phone to make sure its volume and vibrate function were both on. They were and they had been.
Two buzzes, cover the shadow.
Apparently, Maurelle Lacroix was fine.
Three buzzes, protect the princesses.
Alice Taylor and her daughter must be fine too.
Four buzzes, call a complete lockdown at Ark and follow the safety procedures.
They seemed to be safe too, so far.
A few minutes had passed now.
What did no buzzes mean?
“Alain.” There was a quiver in Fallon’s voice. The teleporter looked over Fallon’s shoulder.
Twitter had picked it up first, on the DC hashtag. “Anyone else in #DC hear that noise?” “Explosion in #DC? That wuz loud as fuck.” “They must be testing nukes in #DC or something.” “I thought this was a no fly zone or somethin? What was that? #DC.”
“Coincidence,” someone behind him said. “It’s gotta be a coincidence.”
Alain knew better. The news channels were picking up on it now, sending journalists to the site, while sending helicopters and the like to get great coverage. Fallon was shaking.
“Stay here,” Alain instructed. “I’ll check it out and report back.”
Before anyone could complain, Alain blinked out of the room. He reformed in Washington, instantly catching the smell of smoke, and following it to its source. There were a few regular EMTs moving back to their posts, but, otherwise, no sign of anything amiss. He stopped one of the EMTs. “Where did they take him?”
“I don’t know,” the EMT answered. Alain studied the young man. Truth.
Another study. Altered truth.
Alain let the EMT go on his way and pulled out his cell phone. The call was not to Fallon. When the man answered, Alain got straight to the point. “I need Christian’s current location.”
It took some time. Gabriel could find anyone alive and not mentally compromised, but, wherever he was, Christian was unconscious, dancing on the line of life and death. But Gabriel had every reason to be persistent, and he was; he finally nailed the man’s location, and Alain followed that call with a text to Fallon.
About as bad as it gets. Jung.
Alain slipped the phone back into his pocket and disappeared.
C’mon drift away
through fundamental boundaries
To find ourselves surrounding
The ones who’ve already gone and
come back stronger
-32 Leaves, “All Is Numb”
Crystalynn Fosterman
Jung Facility
Jung Facility
A very carefully selected team had been assembled as soon as the call had come in. A few people on patrol in Washington had thought to call the nearest emergency room; one had been wise enough to call Jung. One of them could move people and items from one place to another in a matter of seconds; that was Crystalynn. They also had in their number a mental manipulator and some of the best emergency technicians she had. The regular DC EMTs would have no idea where Christian had gone.
Meanwhile, they were rushing Christian Moynahan to one of their emergency units. The problem was not simply that he was suffering from smoke inhalation. That would have been relatively easy. They had been trained in how to handle that. The problem was that he had an energy-based ability that had knocked him unconscious in order to deal with the smoke inhalation itself. Smoke introduced many different types of particles into the body, including carbon monoxide, and Crys couldn’t blame the energy for wanting it all gone. But it was having trouble, and Crys didn’t know how to help it.
She considered inhibiting Christian’s ability for a time so they could administer the normal treatment, but she knew how tightly some Specials were woven to their abilities. She knew that personally. Until they figured out exactly what his ability was and what it was doing, there was nothing they could do except try to keep him stabilized.
A young woman had come with them. She was rushing just as they were, trying her best to keep up, it seemed. They had found her on the scene. At first, Crys had assumed she had just witnessed the incident, but she had said something about his abilities back there; was that a general observation, or did she know something about him?
Typically, bystanders did not rush after the patient. They waited to be questioned by the police, or ran to avoid being questioned by the police. Crys swiveled on her heels to face the woman. At five feet tall, Crys did not seem all that threatening, but the expression on her face demanded answers - and betrayed her concern. She remembered having met Christian at the hospital during the cholera outbreak; she knew him to be a good man. Still, time was not an asset they had in plenty at the moment.
“How are you related to the patient?” she asked, the first of a barrage of questions. “You said he needed his abilities. What are his abilities? To what extent does he need them? What would happen if I negated them?” There was a sudden jump in the heart monitor, and Crys glanced around quickly, reflexively, but it continued to move as usual after that and Crys returned her attention to the woman.
That was when Alain appeared in the room. Crys rolled her eyes and cracked her neck. Another complication. “Do you know anything about the patient? What is your relation to him?”
“Coworker.” He glanced at Maurelle, although whether she recognized him was a matter unto itself. "Oh, hey."
Crys sighed. “Does this man have no family?”
“Kind of no. They’re all in Virginia. We’re kind of his family. We can find their phone number if you want, but we’d have to dig through his files.”
Another sigh from Crys. “We’ll make do with what we have.” Turning back to the woman, she said, “If there’s anything else we need to know about him, speak up now. Please. Any treatment we attempt runs the risk of losing him.” She pointed at Alain. “You too.”
Meanwhile, they were rushing Christian Moynahan to one of their emergency units. The problem was not simply that he was suffering from smoke inhalation. That would have been relatively easy. They had been trained in how to handle that. The problem was that he had an energy-based ability that had knocked him unconscious in order to deal with the smoke inhalation itself. Smoke introduced many different types of particles into the body, including carbon monoxide, and Crys couldn’t blame the energy for wanting it all gone. But it was having trouble, and Crys didn’t know how to help it.
She considered inhibiting Christian’s ability for a time so they could administer the normal treatment, but she knew how tightly some Specials were woven to their abilities. She knew that personally. Until they figured out exactly what his ability was and what it was doing, there was nothing they could do except try to keep him stabilized.
A young woman had come with them. She was rushing just as they were, trying her best to keep up, it seemed. They had found her on the scene. At first, Crys had assumed she had just witnessed the incident, but she had said something about his abilities back there; was that a general observation, or did she know something about him?
Typically, bystanders did not rush after the patient. They waited to be questioned by the police, or ran to avoid being questioned by the police. Crys swiveled on her heels to face the woman. At five feet tall, Crys did not seem all that threatening, but the expression on her face demanded answers - and betrayed her concern. She remembered having met Christian at the hospital during the cholera outbreak; she knew him to be a good man. Still, time was not an asset they had in plenty at the moment.
“How are you related to the patient?” she asked, the first of a barrage of questions. “You said he needed his abilities. What are his abilities? To what extent does he need them? What would happen if I negated them?” There was a sudden jump in the heart monitor, and Crys glanced around quickly, reflexively, but it continued to move as usual after that and Crys returned her attention to the woman.
That was when Alain appeared in the room. Crys rolled her eyes and cracked her neck. Another complication. “Do you know anything about the patient? What is your relation to him?”
“Coworker.” He glanced at Maurelle, although whether she recognized him was a matter unto itself. "Oh, hey."
Crys sighed. “Does this man have no family?”
“Kind of no. They’re all in Virginia. We’re kind of his family. We can find their phone number if you want, but we’d have to dig through his files.”
Another sigh from Crys. “We’ll make do with what we have.” Turning back to the woman, she said, “If there’s anything else we need to know about him, speak up now. Please. Any treatment we attempt runs the risk of losing him.” She pointed at Alain. “You too.”