No one asked for it, but I post here the first part of my IST fanfic, and lay my neck waiting the axe of Your stern but just judgement.
Information about the protagonists, from the IST personnel files:
Franco Castelli, code named Rocambole. Born 5/24/86 in Padova, Italy. Joined the IST in the January of 2006, and is currently assigned to Lieutenant Colonel Talons team, in Chicago. His powers include superhuman strength, resilience and speed. He is also strangely elusive to telepathy, and his favourite ice-cream flavour is vanilla.
Hwa Seung, code named Gaze. Born 1/10/83 in Seoul, South Korea. Joined the IST in the March of 2004, and is currently assigned to Lieutenant Colonel Talons team, in Chicago. His powers include telescopic, microscopic and penetrating vision, and his sight extends on an extremely wide spectrum. His reflexes are faster than human and his eye-hand coordination and aim are perfect. He shaves with an electric razor.
Miami, 17 april, 21:32
Miami Beach, Spring Break. Four simple words that decades of teenage movies and pop music had clouded with an aura of myth. They meant sun, sea, party, alcohol and easy girls. Heaven on earth for the vast majority of American teenagers (and hell on hearth for a growing minority, conversely), and for many young foreigners, that gathered there as in some sort of unholy pilgrimage. Franco Castelli, code named Rocambole, had always dreamed to participate in such an event, but now, at the beginning of the first wild, hot, alcoholic night, he was willing to gladly give away one of his incredibly powerful kidneys in order to get elsewhere.
IST Miami had decided to monitor the festivities more closely, to avoid problems caused by young and drunk metas. Strangely enough, the booze industries that sponsored the Break had not been enthusiastic about the idea of having a battalion of UN Powered Infantry as special guests of their beach parties. So the HQ had decided to collect from across the country the youngest operatives, and send them undercover on the beach to keep things under control. *Given the circumstances, the meaning of under control is highly questionable* Thought Franco while a bunch of fratboys passed in front of him, singing loud and rolling kegs of beer.
The guy with purple hair has drug in his pocket. the young Korean sitting besides him said casually.
Franco abandoned briefly his grim line of thought, and gave a look at the subject of Gazes indication.
Which one and how much?
Hashish, a few grams.
I think its better not to blow up our cover for a joint.
Gaze nodded. Fine. Im going to the bar, you want something?
Rocambole sighed internally. As if having to babysit an entire beach wasnt bad enough, the HQ had coupled him with Hwa Seung. The bureaucrats must have thought that being both assigned at IST Chicago they were going to be a great team, but unfortunately they had spoken only twice since Franco had joined the team. Gaze was an extremely reserved person, and was rumored to be one of the most anally retentive operatives ever. Even now, wearing a black T-shirt decorated with a serpentine theme of Chinese dragons, he still managed to retain his professional attitude. Though, it was probably due to his omnipresent shades. Rocambole couldnt remember of having ever saw him without them on.
I take a Cola. Three ice cubes, no lemon, thanks. He needed caffeine, in order to deal properly with the night. Staring at the dark sea from his chair at the bar Franco tried to see things under a different light. It could have been worse: he could have been coupled with Primal, who was currently having her certain time of the month; and his particular beach was hosting a rock concert, which meant additional security to deal with lesser nuisances. Yeah, everything was going to be fine. He almost believed it, until Gaze handed him his Coke. In it there were two ices and a slice of lemon. Franco briefly considered the option of grabbing the bartender by the ankles and using his body to demolish the place, then settled for not leaving a tip. He sipped his drink and turned towards the beach, just in time to see the guy taking fire.
Man on fire, at your 11! Gaze shouted, but Rocambole was already moving, his slender body operating at five times his normal speed . Bright orange flames were erupting from the body of a terrified boy, without any visible cause. Franco grabbed the first beach towel on his way, and tore it in half. Holding a piece of fabric in each hand he leaped over the tables and rushed at the boy. Despite the poor footing offered by sand, he reached him in a matter of seconds. Using the pieces of towel to protect his hands Franco grabbed his target by the hips, and without slowing down carried his screaming and panicked load in the sea. A column of steam rose from the water as Rocambole dropped in the burning boy in, but the flames went off.
Are you okay? Arent you hurt or something? Franco grabbed the guys shoulders, and shook him, but apparently the discovery of his metahuman powers had triggered a religious awakening in the boy, since the only thing he was able to say was an unending thread of ohmygodmygodmygodmygod.
Dont you understand me? Merda! You have to calm down, breathe! The boy tried to stand in the water, but when he lifted his chest the flames burst out again from his skin, forcing Franco to push him down again and to block his arms.
Cant you understasnd what Im saying? You have to calm down! The fire will stop if you calm down! Finally the guy seemed to compose himself a bit, even if he didnt stop shaking. Then he fainted, and Franco had to keep his head out of the water while taking him back on the shore. The young metahuman had lost consciousness from the shock, but he didnt seemed otherwise hurt, even if it wasnt easy to tell, with the molten remains of his polyester shirt stuck all over his chest. Franco deposited the boy on the sand, and started to check him, but was interrupted by two slightly hysterical girls.
What the hell is happening? Marty!
Rocambole stood in front of them, trying to look as professional as his green Pandamonium T-shirt allowed him to. Dont worry, ladies, everything is under control he begun, but the girls resulted impervious to reassurances.
How can it be under control? Marty was on fire!
Well, he isnt any more, isnt he? Retorted sharply Franco, regretting it a second after. *First lesson on dealing with civilians: never, ever, antagonize them. Nice job, you cretin!* He thought, while the outraged shrieks of the two girls menaced to pierce his eardrums. Thanks to the Lord, Gaze came to save him.
Relax, ladies. He stated sternly flashing his badge. We are Agents Gaze and Rocambole, IST. Do you know this young man?
The arrival of a figure of authority changed radically the girls attitude. Yes, he-hes our schoolmate.
Did he take any drugs? Plied the Korean, getting closer to the two.
No! He just drank a few beers! Answered the girl on the left, a bit too hastily to be believable.
Allow me to explain you the situation, miss. Gaze said, coldly staring at her. Your friend here has just exhibited metahuman faculties, and will need to undergo a medical treatment. Until he is able to control his power he will be treated with firekillers. This compounds, if administered to someone under narcotics, are likely to cause a cardiovascular breakdown. If hes on drugs, he will die. Franco couldnt help but stare at his colleague, admiring the way he was quietly terrorizing the two poor girls. Im going to ask you one more time, ladies. Is your friend on any drug?
He smoked some pot after dinner. One of the girls finally answered, staring her feet in shame.
Anything else? Gaze asked the other one.
No, sir. Nothing. She whispered.
Good. The ambulance will arrive within minutes. Gaze said turning towards Franco. Rocambole, hows the boy?
Pulse and breath are regular, but hes passed out. Must have been a shock for him. Reported the Italian, to prove that Hwa Seung wasnt the only pro there.
Fine. Lets take him near the exit, for the paramedics.
****
You did a good job. Hwa Seung said without diverting his gaze from the beach. Franco looked at him, surprised. Ten minutes earlier the ambulance had carried away the unlucky pyro, and the two girls, who insisted on going with him. He and Gaze had filled the necessary forms and gone back to their chairs at the bar, and they had not spoken since then.
"What?
With the man on fire. You handled the situation well. Franco felt surprised to realize how much the unexpected compliment pleased him.
I havent done anything, I just ran into him. Youre the one who did a great job with that two girls! Where did you learn to scare civilians that way?
In the police.
Did you worked in police?
Gaze nodded. Two years, in Seoul, before joining the IST. He explained.
And why did you leave?
I was not satisfied with my job. The Korean cut himself off, and looked back out at the beach.
They stayed silent for a few seconds, then Gaze spoke again. Can you see that?
What?
"A flickering orange light, there. Franco looked at the spot Gaze was pointing at, but couldnt see any light, just a young man juggling clumsily with beer cans.
No, nothing.
It has stopped, right now. Doesnt matter, it was probably just some radio wave. Hwa Seung relaxed, leaning back on his chair, while Franco tried his best not to look surprised. He knew theoretically that Gazes enhanced sight allowed him to see electromagnetic phenomena, but it was still weird to him. He drank a little, noticing how the Coke had became uncomfortably warm, and almost dropped it when Gaze jumped up, pointing at the crowd.
Theres an invisible man, there. Hes completely naked and is sneaking toward the stage.
Is he armed? asked Franco, rising from his chair.
No, but that doesnt mean anything. It was true, being the suspect clearly metahuman in nature his dangerousness could not be estimated clearly.
Rocambole crackled his knuckles. Ok, just aim me in the right direction and Ill do the rest. Wait, lets see what he does. He could have been an harmless prankster, after all, ans after the near-disaster of his first mission Franco was trying hard to be less impulsive.
Hwa Seung nodded. Fine, hes going to the backstage entrance, lets follow him.
It was amazing how Gaze managed not to lose the suspect in the middle of a multitude, Franco thought. Sure, the ability to see through the people had to be useful. Despite the crowd that surrounded the stage, yelling madly at the opening band, the two agents reached the backstage entrance quite fast. It was possibly due to Rocambole, who had been carefully moving away entire armfuls of people, while trying not to be noticed. The stage was definitively a sensitive target for a potential terrorist: it was meant to host a concert of The Top Catz, a rampant newcomer on the Canadian-Meeranar rock scenery. Franco had heard some of their songs, and while they may not have been the Furry Styx some people claimed, they neither deserved to be blown up by some xenophobic nutbar.
The bouncer eyed the two sceptically, but Gaze blazed his IST badge before he could ask anything. IST, sir. We need to get in for a few moments.
Sure, sir, pass. The huge man nodded and made way. *I must learn to show a badge that way.* Rocambole thought while he followed Hwa Seung. To his great surprise the young Korean pulled out a small gun, aiming at one empty point near the stage entrance.
IST! Freeze and become visible! He shouted.
A skinny boy appeared right in front of the guns barrel. He looked quite confused, and undeniably naked.
On your knees, boy. Dont make sudden moves. Rocambole, tie his hands behind his back. Franco grabbed a wire from the floor and quickly executed. The boy was strangely passive, as it was somebody else that was being arrested.
Done. Now we better take Mr. Streaker, here, to the Police. And find him some pants.
Sure, Gaze nodded. but I want him to answer a few questions before. Why did you tried to go on stage?
I was going to jump naked on the crowd, at midnight muttered the kid in a dreamy way. Franco knelt and gave him a closer look.
The guys on drugs, Gaze. Look at his pupils. Theyre wide as plates.
He turned toward the bouncer, who was standing near them, strongly embarassed by his manifest failure in guarding the stage. Call an ambulance, please.
Hwa Seungs communicator started buzzing. Gaze here. He answered. Right. Your position? Were coming, ETA five minuts. Then he turned to Franco. Cleric and Hummingbird need help to calm down some sort of gang. Lets go. They runned out of the stage, barely avoiding the bouncer.
Gotta go, finish the job by yourself. Shouted Franco.
Do you think its something serious? Rocambole asked to Gaze while they were jogging to the beach assigned to the other agents.
Not likely. Cleric and Hummingbird are just not good at scaring people. Franco chuckled Thats for sure! I was in boot camp with Hummingbird, and Ive always thought she was doing a mistake joining IST. Shes too much a good girl.
I agree. And Cleric is just a twerp. It was admirable how Gaze managed to talk without slowing down. He had to be in really good shape, being a non-superfast.
So whats the plan? You do good cop, I do bad cop?
Hwa Seung shook his head. I have got a better plan. I do bad cop, and you do very bad cop. A controlled exhibition of your strength should be enough to intimidate a few punks
Franco grimaced. I like this plan. Maybe this fellow was not so bad, after all. A bit stiff, but not stupid.
Four minutes and sixteen seconds after they came in sight of the target: a small but noisy crowd of people gathering around a smashed table. Most of them were simply bystanders, and there were a few cameras. It was odd how in America nothing seemed to happen without someone videotaping it, Franco thought idly while approaching the scene. Hummingbird was trying inanely to reason with five muscular college boys, who were instead devoting themselves to the annihilation of a Schmultz Beer stand. Franco snorted. Asking support for a bunch of drunks! Patricia Bregu, code named Hummingbird, was a dear girl, kind and deeply religious, but nave and lacking in guts. Her power allowed her to vibrate her body at hypersonic speed, and therefore move incredibly fast. Her codename was officially due to her superspeed and to the green glow that accompanied the use of her power, but Franco suspected that her short attention span was also implied in the choice. She was, however, a nice girl, and Franco had never told her any of the innumerable jokes that the combination of girls and vibratory powers inevitably generates.
Youre here! We cant stop them, theyre completely drunk! Babbled a skinny boy with dark blond hair, greeting them. Cleric. When he first met him at the briefing Franco founded him fascinating, in a disturbing way. He was probably the worlds worst D&D geek, gifted with healing powers and equipped with an electronic mace which affected the neural system of the opponent, short-circuiting his motion centres.
*The guy had though luck when rolling his stats.* thought Rocambole while him and Gaze tried to get a clear picture of the situation from Clerics babble. Apparently, the leader of that small group of hooligans had displayed some sort of energy projection power, half-disintegrating a few barrels, and was now standing on the debris, responding with rude invitations at Pats feeble attempts to talk about it. It was all the two agents needed to know. Franco swiftly grabbed the guys arm and pulled him down. Enough, kid! Albeit clumsily, the guy managed to land on his feet, and faced Rocambole with an arrogant grin.
Whats your problem, man? Were just havin fun! The young Italian frowned. The guy was a goddamn prototype: blonde, handsome, a head taller than him, extremely muscular and tanned.
Three words, kid: International Super Teams. Im Captain Castelli, and I strongly advise you and your friend to stop this immediately. He said sternly, borrowing some of Gazes attitude.
Oh, yeah? Me and my friends advise you IST types to stop bossing around. This is our country, right, guys? As on clue, the other four moved closer, grinning. Franco would have found them menacing, once. Now, he just grinned in response.
You know, guys, Ive been in the States for six weeks, and I was beginning to think that all the stories about American rednecks were only urban legends. But, hey! Here you are! Isnt that wonderful, Gaze? Hwa Seung just nodded.
Cmon Billy Bob, show them what weve got. Barked one of the guys to his boss.
Yeah, Billy Bob, show us. Asked mockingly Rocambole. With an arrogant snort Billy Bob pointed his fist towards the last remains of the table, and unleashed a bright energy beam that vaporized the wood.
Nice. Was Francos sole reaction.
The idiots face went red with anger. Nice? Its gonna be nice when Ill do that to your balls, you IST faggot? he shouted, shoving hard Rocamboles shoulder.
Youre not gonna do anything to my balls, kid, and Ill tell you why. Answered coldly Franco. You have no chance against me, cos Im stronger, faster, tougher, smarter, more skilled, and my butt is firmer than yours. Look. He held two fingers in front of Billy Bobs face, and quickly tapped his nose, which broke with an audible crack. A copious flood of blood spilled on the sand as the boy doubled over screaming, and Franco finished the job with a swift pat on his nape that knocked him out. Before the others of Billy Bobs gang could react, Gaze pointed his small black pistol against them.
Freeze, kids. He said quietly. Rocambole lifted by the collar Billy Bobs unconscious figure, and thrown him to his buddies.
Go away, and take this scumbag with you. I give you thirty seconds. The way the four youngsters stumbled on their own feet in the haste of their escape warmed wonderfully Francos heart.
Why did you just leave them go? Asked Gaze, a bit surprised.
Well, they didnt actually attack us. And besides, it is a very probable that a young metahuman, if put in jail once, will become a full time criminal. If we just scare them, maybe theyll decide to stop til they can. Franco explained with his most charming smile. Gaze eyed him strangely, but didnt say nothing.
Oh, guys, you were great! enthused Hummingbird from behind them. Franco inhaled deeply before turning towards her.
Tell me something I dont know, Pat. Like why did you call us. The girls eyes grew even bigger in confusion.
We had to. We were outnumbered. Asking support is what you do when you are outnumbered. She said carefully, as she was explaining it to a six-year old. Rocambole just stared at her, perplexed. Hummingbird was not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but this was way too dumb to be believed. Hanging around with Cleric was ruining her. Franco decided that there was no point in arguing.
Ok, as you say. Gaze, I think its better if we go back to our beach. The Korean simply nodded, and the two headed back to their assigned territory.
You know her better. Is she always like that? asked Gaze once they exited the other agents earshot.
Franco shook his head. No. Shes too kind, nave, maybe a bit clueless; but shes not an idiot.
Is it possible that she drank something?
No, shes not the kind of person who get high on duty. She hardly get high at all. Maybe she was just tired Franco dismissed the matter, and completely forgot it when a bunch of scantily dressed girls surrounded him.
Cmon baby! Lemme see those abs! screamed the drunkest one, waving a camera. Beside the alcohol smell, they were quite pretty and Rocambole found himself more than willing to satisfy them. Fortunately Hwa Seung dragged him away before he could damage the International Super Teams image.
Rocambole, theres something suspect there. He said pointing at a young girl floating in midair screaming. Franco sighed and dashed towards the girl.
****
Miami, 18 april, 00:07
Another night like this and I resign. Stated Franco sipping his fifth Cola, and even through the shades he spotted a sympathetic look from Gaze. In the previous two hours they had stopped, deterred and occasionally rescued at least twelve minor but turbulent metas who were showing off or brawling. The count included three telekinetes, two pyrokinetes, two flyers, one glider, three with water powers and a kid who could morph in a eight-feet octopus. To their ulterior annoyance, most of them looked under the same unknown drug of the invisible nudist.
Yes. Its like every metahuman on this beach had decided to go crazy muttered the Korean leaning heavily on the bar. He was more upset than tired, Franco thought, probably because he had not been able to identify that flickering orange light that he continued to see here and there for all the evening.
Yeah, guys. Weve never had a Break so messy since Ive worked here. Added the bartender. After Franco had managed to explain him exactly how he liked his Coke, they had started chatting a little. Neil, that was his name, was a true veteran of the Spring Break, after six years passed in his shelter behind the bar.
Wow, how lucky that we are! snorted Franco.
Oh, well at least the videos are going to be fun. Shrugged Neil pouring a beer for himself.
Videos? asked Rocambole.
Yeah, sure. Every year they make a videoclip with all the funny things and the girls flashing. It pays quite well, for what I know
Yeah, I guess it makes good blackmail material Franco smiled at the thought of how much the parents of a young wannabe Senator could be willing to pay to get rid of any proof of their sons wild vacations.
Rocambole, I think we have a problem. Gaze stated, after a quick look at his communicator.
Ok, dont tell me, I wanna guess. Its a giant killer sandcastle?
No, I just had the toxicology report from the hospital. None of the people we arrested is resulted positive to a particular drug. Some of them were positive to marihuana or alcohol, but not in quantities that justify their behaviour. And most of them doesnt even remember what theyve done. Franco groaned, knowing which was the most likely reason behind that.
Great. This smell like mind control to me.
Right. Nodded Gaze. But who would mindcontrol metahuman teens to get them in trouble, and why?
Maybe somebody wanted to keep us busy for all the night. There must be some drug affair going on tried Rocambole without much conviction.
Unlikely. There are at least ten easier ways to distract us. Hwa Seung noted sharply. It has to be something different. Maybe someone wants to discredit the IST, and has forged this mayhem to make us look incompetent.
Yeah, theres many people in the US thatll pay a lot of money for a videotape showing IST Franco stopped abruptly, and looked at the Korean, who just nodded.
I think we should have a word with the man who make the Break videos.
Sure we should. Neil, can you give us some data about him?
I dont know much the bartender shrugged. His name is Dan Preston, hes kinda smug and a loner, but always seems to get every girl he want. And hes got this ridiculous red kart that he use to roam from beach to beach looking for funny things to tape. Ive heard he has quite a knack for it. Rocambole grinned in satisfaction.
It fits decently the Whacky Telepath profile, dont you think?
Im not sure, but its worth a try. Said simply Gaze, leaving a generous tip on the bar.
Good. Ill speak with him, even if hes a telepath he wont be able to get my mind. Franco said with confidence. He loved his strange mindshield.
As you prefer. Its been nice to meet you, Neil. Thank you for the help. Gaze finished his energy drink and the two moved away.
So, how are we gonna find this Preston? asked Rocambole looking around.
Actually I think I already found him. There is a small red kart with sand pneumatics eight hundred meters on our ten. Near it a man with a camera is taping three girls flashing. One has got breast implants. Franco managed to prevent his jaw from falling, but it was hard. This guy was all-seeing.
O-ok. Lets go. While they were jogging to the place that Gaze indicated, which happened to be near Hummingbird and Clerics beach, Rocambole thought about the whole mission. Something wasnt right. He could not put his finger on it, but he knew there was something wrong. To his disappointment, the girls had already covered up when they reached the man. Neil was right about the kart: it was ridiculous, like a rich boys toy. Only that Preston was a full grown man, with an incredible tan, expensive sunglasses and a white shirt half-opened on his hairy chest and a big gold chain around his neck. He would have been perfectly at his place on an Italian beach, but in Miami he looked a bit out of place to Franco.
Excuse me, sir. Im agent Castelli of IST. Id like to ask you a few questions, if you dont mind.
Sure, Agent. If there is anything I can do for you despite his rough appearance, the mans voice was kind and confident, and Franco relaxed a bit.
We would like to see some of tonights tapes he started, making up some bullshit about a possible drug dealing, waiting for the odd feeling of somebody elses mind poking into his own. Or at least trying to poke in. Even the UN metabiologists were not sure about how his mind protected itself. It was not much like a mindshield than a mindmaze. His brain constantly produced a mental smokescreen made from peripheral thoughts and worthless memories, that made the core of his mind very difficult to reach, and impossible to reach unnoticed. Franco loved it. Telepaths gave him the creeps, and It was nice to know that nobody could mess with his head
Rocambole! RUN! Gaze shouted suddenly in his ear, jumping on him. Before he could understand what happened he found himself running away at full speed, with Gaze clutched on his back.
In the hut, run in the hut! shouted again the Korean, who admirably managed to keep his hold on him despite the brisk turn. The aforementioned hut was a little, octagon-shaped sheet-iron cabin devoted to the sale of hot dogs and various other unhealthy food and his door, as Franco noticed too late, was closed. Luckily enough, at a running speed of 160 kmh closed doors have more a symbolic value than a real use. Well, shaky wooden ones, at least.
In an explosion of splinters the two agents rolled inside, hitting hard against the bar. Fuck! Are you alright? Rocambole rose to his feet quickly, quite surprised of his relative well-being: having withstood the better part of the impact he was expecting something more than a cut on the forehead and a few splinters in his shoulder. Nothing broken, just a few contusions. Reported Gaze professionally, adjusting his shades.
Fine. Now would you tell what the fuck its happening?
Remember that orange radiance that I saw earlier? Its Preston that emits it. He was irradiating you while you were talking. Hes our man, but hes not a psi. Franco chilled, remembering how he had reacted to Gazes order, less than a minute ago. He obeyed without a single thought, without even realizing he was obeying. Whatever this Preston guys power was, it had bypassed his mindshield without difficulty. That was bad. Really bad.
I needed to get us out of his range before he could take control. By now, hell probably know that we know. Continued Hwa Seung, looking at the wall in front of him. Or maybe through it. Yes he knows. Fortunately hes an idiot.
May the one without the x-ray sight receive some elucidations? Asked Franco, slightly irritated.
Hes irradiating heavily all the people on the beach, and I think hes sending them against us. Gaze explained. Its a stupid move, he should have run away. Im not going to give him another chance. With a single swift gesture the Korean pulled out his gun and shot two times. Franco was about to ask him if he had gone out of his mind, but realized that Gaze hadnt shot in the direction he was looking before.
What?
His kart is useless now. He wont escape us now that... oh! The disappointment was evident in the agents face, as he extracted from his pocket the crushed remains of his communicator . Bad news. We cant call reinforcements.
Minchia. Muttered Franco. Being cut off from the HQ was not a pleasant situation, given the fact that neither of them was equipped for a real fight: Rocambole was without his armoured jacket and gauntlets, and Gaze was carrying only a small .22 instead of his usual handcannons. And with an angry mob of mind-controlled civilians approaching their improvised fortress, a fight was more than likely.
Rocambole, block the door! Ordered Gaze, while refilling his clip. Knowing it was only a matter of seconds before they reached the hut, Franco quickly lifted the huge refrigerator that was sitting behind the bar and moved it in front of the empty doorframe. Then he turned to his partner.
Ok, tactical evaluation. Look like weve got a yummy M&Ms here. A Mastermind and Minions, I mean. He prcised, answering Gazes unspoken question.
Right, we have to incapacitate the Mastermind fast, and disperse non-lethally the Minions. Added Hwa Seung, quoting almost by single words the tactical manual. The problem is how to avoid his mind control. Before Rocambole could give his opinion, a terrifying noise made clear that Prestons Instant Mob had reached them. Bulges and dents started to appear on the sheet-iron walls, as the mindless youngsters tried to tear them apart with what sounded like sticks and stones. At least there were no firearms, Rocambole thought. He liked to consider himself as on the doorstep of the Bulletproof Club, but even if most guns could not pierce his skin, being shot was still very painful, and left him badly bruised. A group of muscled fratboys, apparently guided by an unrecognizable Cleric, tried to force the barricade on the door, but Franco kept it in place without effort. Preston had Cleric, and probably had been controlling him and Hummingbird since the beginning, using them to drag him and Gaze into his little show.
We need an idea, Gaze! He shouted, but the unfazeable Korean seemed not to listen, his eyes wandering beyond the wall. I think he need to order his minions vocally. That radiation probably operates on the brain, weakening the targets will. He finally said.
So if we plug our ears he cant control us?
Maybe, but its too risky and Augh! Gazes lecture was abruptly cut off as he had to dive on the ground, to avoid a shining green hand that had burst from the wall. Hummingbird. Her vibratory power made her able to turn her hands into two chainsaws with green polished nails. A second hand cut his way through the sheet-iron as if it were paper. Hastily, Rocambole left his impromptu barrier, grabbed Hummingbirds wrists and pulled hard twice, slamming the girls face against the wall. Patricias arms dropped and retired as he left them.
Shes gone, her nose is bleeding. Notified Gaze, passing a hand through his short black hair. God, shes so fast I didnt see her coming.
I hope Ive not hurt her much, shes a good girl. Noticing that the besiegers had managed to move a little the fridge Franco pushed it back with a casual thrust of his foot. So, what are we gonna do?
I dont know if only we knew more about the nature of Prestons power Gaze shook his head. All I can say is that its some kind of modulated microwaves.
Great! Franco snorted. So we are dealing with a living mind control laser? A what? Cmon, never heard about orbital mind control lasers? Its a paranoid thing. You know, the kind of people that The Italian stopped, struck by an idea. Ive got a plan!
Gaze eyed him sceptically. Hope it does not involve a street sign, this time.
Hey, the street sign worked! However, its something better. Hold here. Before Gaze could dissent, Franco left him the barricade, and begun to rummage frantically for something under the bar. The young Korean pointed his feet and pushed with all his strength, but after a few seconds he could feel his arms slowly giving way to the sheer number of his opponents. Luckily, behind him Rocambole shouted Gotcha! and came back to his place. Holding the fridge in place with a hand he waved happily the tinfoil roll he had in the other.
Gaze lifted a single eyebrow. What are we supposed to do with *that*?
Franco told him.
Were gonna die.
******
Im still persuaded that its not going to work. Repeated for the fourth time the Korean, his voice slightly distorted by the tinfoil layer covering his mouth. Itll work, millions of paranoids all over the world cant be wrong! Rocambole was looking supremely confident. At least his voice and posture were confident. The remaining features were completely hidden under the tinfoil wrapped around his head. And everybody knows that tinfoil tampers with microwaves. Gaze shook his head in discomfort. I suppose theres no choice.
Right. Remember the plan: I deal with Pat and the kids, you take Clerics shockmace and knock off Preston. And remember the line I told you. Franco flinched as Hummingbirds hand burst from the wall again. Do I really need to say that to him? Asked Gaze, a bit disappointed. That particular part of the plan was probably the most absurd, and hed gladly avoid it. If you dont want to say that dont. but that line will make everything easier. Answered serenely the Italian. Gaze shrugged Okay. Try not to get killed, colleague. Hummingbird is dangerous. Rocambole nodded seriously. Its the first time I fight someone whos faster than me. Any suggestion?
Aim for the legs. Answered simply Hwa Seung, turning towards the door. Lets go.
From the door? Asked Franco with a grin. Be creative.
A second later the huts wall literally exploded, erupting a really determined Rocambole, who rampaged the crowd, throwing away everyone on his path. In his full accelerated mode fifty mind-controlled teenagers where no match for him: it was like the world had suddenly moved fifteen centimetres closer, and switched to slow-mo. *too slow, honey* Franco thought, bending forward to avoid a beach umbrella brandished by a heavy-tanned girl. One quick thrust sent her several meter away, against another five guys, who fell on the ground in a moaning mess. In less than forty seconds Rocambole cut a way through the mindless mob, enough for Gaze to run undisturbed into Cleric. The tall boy greeted him raising his mace and yelling. Hwa Seung dodged the clumsy blow with relative ease, then shouted the idiocy that Rocambole had suggested him: Cmon, Sasha! You can overcome this Charme spell! Reroll your saving dice! To his much surprise Cleric hesitated for a split-second, which was enough for Gaze to grab his wrist, pivot on the heels, twist his arm behind his back and snap it. Cleric screamed and lost his grasp on the mace, then a straight elbow at the back of the neck sent him face down, unconscious. Gaze didnt mind too much for hurting his colleague so hard. According to his file, his healing power automatically activated every time his body underwent a significant damage. A broken arm was surely significant enough. The young Korean picked up the mace from the ground and secured it was turned on, before hitting the nearest fratboy on the head with it. The guy had a brief spasm and collapsed on the sand. Under the tin foil Gaze allowed himself to grin. Then he rushed towards Preston, waving the mace. Rocambole looked happily at the colleague. His plan was actually working! And a great number of youngsters were running away to escape his wrath. *Looks like mind-control only goes so far* he thought with satisfaction. Then something sharp cut deeply in his side. Franco turned just in time not to get decapitated by a Hummingbird blow. Caught by surprise, he jumped back to earn some time, but Pat reached him even before he could land. Suddenly her vibratory powers were no more a funny thing to laugh about with the guys. She was instead like a blur of green fury. Rocambole somehow managed to avoid a myriad of blows, then tried a few low kicks, that she dodged with disturbing ease. He ducked and grabbed the girl by the belt, but Hummingbird took advantage of his move and he could barely threw her away before she could sever off his arm. She fell with grace twenty meters away, and with a growl rushed at him again.
Gaze swiftly approached Preston, who was trying to force his kart to move. He obviously hadnt noticed the two small holes on the radiator, the only trace of the two perfectly-aimed bullets that had destroyed the batteries of his ridiculous means of transport. Preston swore loud, twisting the ignition key so hard that it broke. With a frightened look on his face he turned towards Gaze and lifted his hands. STOP! Preston shouted authoritatively, literally bathing him in microwaves. A cascade of orange light that only him could see enveloped Gaze, and small blue sparks danced all over his tinfoil helmet. Stop yourself! On the ground! Ordered the criminal, focusing his power. Gaze felt dizzy, but no urge to obey assailed him. Rocambole was right, after all. He swung Clerics mace at Prestons head, but the man managed to duck, and taking advantage of Gaze dizziness grabbed his forearm. It was like being hold with a red hot metal glove. Gaze screamed, but didnt lose his grasp on the weapon. Without leaving his arm, Preston punched him hard in the face. Twice. The pain helped the young Korean to recover, and he kicked his opponent in the guts with all his strength. Preston doubled in pain, losing his grasp on Gazes arm. With a final yell the agent hit his opponent on the head with the mace, knocking him unconscious. Panting, Gaze gave a look to the horrible red burn on his forearm.*Idiot!* he thought. *Microwaves are hot! I shouldve been expecting that.* He carefully unwrapped his head from the tinfoil, discovering in the process that Prestons punch had shattered his shades. With a deep sigh he took them off, then quickly proceeded to block Prestons hands and legs with restraints, and to wrap the tinfoil around his hands. Resisting the urge to rub his burnt arm Gaze started walking back to the hut.
There was no point in trying to be faster, reflected briefly Franco, Hummingbird was faster than him, and was able to work at full speed for a long time, while he could only stay speeded up for a few minutes before getting tired. And the blood loss was not helping him. He had to outsmart her. *How hard could it be? Im smarter than her even when shes fully conscious.* With a grin he leaped on the huts low roof and flipped her the bird. Pat looked puzzled for a moment, then started to climb. With her astounding speed she reached the roof in a matter of seconds, but once there she found nothing but a large hole. She leaned forward to give a better look at it, and felt somebody grabbing her ankle from behind. A really strong somebody.
Surprise! With a quick pull Rocambole tossed the girl on the ground, making her land head-first. With an evil smile Franco faced the girl, who had managed to get back on her feet. She was slightly stunned, and this time her rush was clumsy. Franco just dived at the last second, rolling on the left. He pivoted on a handstand, delivering a vicious break-dance kick to the girls knee. He felt the bones break under his blow, and Hummingbird fell on the ground screaming. *Shit. Too high!* Franco froze. He was supposed to hit lower, to break her shinbone, perhaps her ankle. Not her knee. A knee damage was probably the worst thing that could actually happen to a speedster. She could be crippled for life. He had to do something quickly. Tossing away one or two remaining youngsters he ran to Cleric, who was sitting on the sand rubbing his right arm and appeared to have just regained consciousness. Rocambole, whats happening? Why are you dressed up as Mr. Baked Potato Head? asked the boy, and Franco realized he still had the tin foil wrapped around his head. He tore it away. It looked like Sashas healing power had taken care of his microwaved brain as well as of his broken arm, bringing him back to his usual dumbness. Ill tell you later, Hummingbird is wounded. He pulled him on his feet and led him to Pat, who was whining in pain, curled up on the ground. The healer knelt to her side, and his hands started to glow of a soft golden light. He carefully pressed his hand against Hummingbird injured knee, and held it there. Its not really bad. Sasha said reassuringly. Just a neat fracture on the upper tibia and a few tore tendons. I can fix it easily. Franco felt like an enormous weight was taken from his shoulders when Pat opened her eyes, confused but unharmed. What-what happened? Where am I? she asked. Good Lord, Franco! Youre bleeding!
Dont worry, Pat. Clerics gonna take care of that. We were more concerned about saving your leg. I had to break it to stop you from trying to kill me. The girls eyes grew wide, just like Sashas. What? they both shouted.
You, both of you in fact, had your brains microwaved into submission by a mad videoclip director. Me and Gaze found out, but he sent you and half of the beach on our blood. I had to fought Hummingbird to allow Gaze get him, and believe me, Pat, you were bloody hard to take down. Thats the story in a nutshell. The two stared at him, appalled, for a few seconds. Then Patricia spoke. And where is Gaze? Rocambole realized that he had not seen his comrade-in-arms since the beginning of the fight. Indeed a good question, miss Bregu. Ten points to Hufflepuff. He answered starting to look around.
Am here. Mission accomplished. Said a calm, familiar voice behind him. Preston is handcuffed at his kart, and Id appreciate some medical assistance. Gaze was standing near the hut, with an half smile on his face despite of the horrible red burn on his right forearm. His shades were missing, revealing a pair of incredibly blue eyes, one of whom was blackened. Why do I have to be Hufflepuff? asked weakly Hummingbird, and was promptly ignored.
*****
I liked that T-shirt! muttered sourly Franco observing his own hand poking from the wide hole that Hummingbirds hand had cut in his T-shirt. Now that the equally wide hole in his side had vanished there was time for lesser complaints. Cleric had proved to be more useful than he might look at first sight, healing completely all of them, plus a good dozen of people that had suffered various injuries due to being thrown away like ragdolls by a superstrong Italian, and was now having some rest in the polices car. The beach was now very quiet, everyone who was able to get away on his own feet had left. The police had taken Preston in custody under the charges of assault on public officers, sexual harassment and violation of the laws against mindcontrol and electromagnetic pollution. The young agents were idly filling the necessary forms and enjoying the post-healing flow of endorphins. Please, Franco, let me repay it. Its all my fault! asked for the tenth time Hummingbird, with a terribly sorry voice. Dont worry, Pat. After all, its such a small price to pay for the victory, isnt that Gaze?
Without any doubt. My shades on the other hand
"Oh, cut it off! Rocambole shrugged If I had eyes like yours Id never hide them. Hwa Seung diverted his gaze, apparently uncomfortable with the topic. Anyway I suppose to owe you some apologies, Rocambole. The young Korean looked Franco in the eyes. When I first met you I labelled you as an irresponsible trouble-shooter. I was wrong, and Im sorry.
Rocambole looked at him surprised, then broke into a wide smile. You dont have anything to apologize: I am an irresponsible troubleshooter for most of the time. By the way I thought you were a tight-ass prick. Gaze reluctantly returned the smile. So we are even, arent we? he said, giving an awkward pat on Francos shoulder.
Its so beautiful to see people forgiving each other. Im so proud of you! exclaimed Hummingbird with an irritatingly happy smile. Franco gave her a stern look. Oh, please, Pat! Stop acting! You are not so good-girly as you try to be. Less than an hour ago you tried to kill me!
I wasnt in control of myself she cried out and I did apologize!
Franco snorted, a bit too loud to be serious. Apologies! You were like a rabid beast, girl! When I was fighting with you there was a moment when I thought I wasnt gonna live to watch Ninja Nuns vs. The KGB again.
What? You know Ninja Nuns? enquired Gaze with an extremely surprised voice.
If I know it? Its one of my favourite movies!
Its MY favourite, too!
I cant believe it! Francos face suddenly illuminated, and he grabbed Hummingbird by her arm.
Listen, Pat: do you really wanna make up with me an Gaze for gettin mind controlled and tryin to kill us? he asked rapidly.
Uh, yes answered confused the girl. Franco grinned viciously.
Wundabar. So why dont you be a dear and keep an eye to our beach while me and Gaze have a beer and a nice chat about movies?
O-okay our beach is empty right now, so I think its fine
Great! Gaze, lets go. Ill take you to the Crossfield Pub, and well talk in front of a nice kangaroo-burger!
Are you sure thats oof! Gazes weak attempt of dissenting was cut off as Rocambole grabbed him by the collar and pulled him away. No way, man! I wont let you sneak away now that Ive found out youre human and not some sort of snotty android! shouted menacingly Franco. By the way I also need you to buy the beer
*****
Would you believe it? I can thrash a tank with my bare hands but American law doesnt allow me to buy a beer! Its insane, isnt it? declared Rocambole sinking his teeth into the large hamburger. The night was getting a lot better: after the discovery of a common passion for obscure action cult-movies and a few beers Gaze had put out his all-business attitude and revealed to be a much more pleasant company than Franco would ever have hoped. He was competent, intelligent, witty, and he could legally buy alcohol, four qualities that only seldom came together. You know, maybe the two facts are somehow related retorted idly Hwa Seung pouring some more ketchup on his fries. Anyway, how did you find this place? You see, I ate once in the Wien Crossfield while in vacation, and I felt in love with kangaroo-burgers. I searched the Net for every town with one of these pubs and wrote down every address. And before you ask, yes I do have a lot of time to waste.
Enough time to undergo a Chow Yung-Fat marathon when we get back to Chicago? asked Gaze with a light in his eyes. Before Franco could express his enthusiastically agreement, however, the pubs door was burst open by a coruscating beam. The customers that werent too drunk panicked and ran away, as a familiar figure walked in.
Ive found you, bastards! Now Im gonna kill you all! Billy Bob bellowed, pointing a red, glowing fist at the pair. His boyish features were twisted in rage, but he would have been a lot scarier without the white band-aid on the bridge of his nose and the cotton in his nostrils. Rocambole and Gaze looked at each other, puzzled. You thought I wasnt going to take my revenge? shouted the young metahuman. I hate to admit it, but yes, we do overestimate your intelligence. Gaze calmly answered.
What?
Yeah, cut in Rocambole colloquially. We thought nobody could be so dumb to actually come back begging for trouble after being wasted so hard. Or at least nobody thats not interested in living at the States expenses.
Is that what you want? Spend your youth in jail? Asked Gaze with an apparently genuine interest. Billy Bob stood, flabbergasted. Things were not supposed to go that way.
Cmon Gaze, jail isnt that bad. A good place to work out an meet new people. Its like a hotel, except for the wake up call, thats a bit harsher. But maybe hell like it, wont you, faggot? Franco laughed, tossing at the moron an empty bottle, closely followed by an hastily hurled dish. Billy Bob managed to incinerate the bottle with a beam, but that left him open for the dish, which collided exactly with the band-aid on his nose. Howling, the boy clutched at his newly-injured nose, and before the dish could shatter on the ground, Rocambole was on him. The young Italian knocked out the wannabe-villain with a single uppercut, then looked around embarrassed.
I-Id just wish to make clear that Ive nothing against homosexual people I said that only because I knew he was an homophobic, and I wanted to upset him, ok? he said to no one in particular.
Alright, dude! No offence taken! shouted back a guy from across the room.
Thanks. Rocambole, extremely relieved by the clarification, quickly put the restraints on the unconscious idiot and returned serenely to his kangaroo-burger.
Nice shot. Said flatly Gaze, sipping the last drops of his beer.
Actually I hit him out of sheer luck. The dish was meant to be a distraction like the bottle.
Really?
Yup, the plan was throwing him the table.
You are not one of the subtle kind, are you? Chuckled Gaze. Ive been one for most of my life, I wanna try something new. Anyway, you bring the movies an I bring the food?
Fair enough. Garon, two more beers and the police, please. Called Gaze snapping his fingers.
By the way, I like your tattoo. Franco paled. What tattoo? I dont have any he begun to say, but Gaze interrupted him sternly.
Oh, please! I saw it the first time we met!
You were looking at my butt? Asked the Italian, shocked by the revelation.
No, I just do a complete search on everyone I meet, to make sure. Explained Hwa Seung, as if *literally* undressing with the eyes every person he saw was perfectly normal. Franco decided that discussing the ethical implications of his newfound friends power wasnt worth the time, and capitulated.
Well, this is kinda secret you must swear not to tell anyone. As Gaze seriously nodded, Rocambole continued. It happened two years and an half ago. President Buchanan just got impeached, and I was in London on a school trip at the time. Me and a bunch of American guys decided to celebrate the event with a really epic drunk. He smiled, then shrugged. Woke up the next day wrapped in an American flag, covered with lipstick-made war paints and with *KISS HERE* tattooed on my right buttcheek. Franco chuckled. Anyway, I decided to keep it. Its funny, at least until my parents find out.
They wont know it from me. Promised Gaze with a grave look.
Fine. But now you must tell me why you left Seouls Police. Gaze took a deep breath.
Okay, Ill tell you, although its not a particularly interesting story. I was underemployed. They had an agent able to seek out every drug dealers secret compartment, uncover every smuggler, keep under control every hostage situation, and they hardly gave me any assignments. I dont know why, maybe because I was a meta, maybe because I was too young, maybe both. The fact is that I was unsatisfied. I held on for a year and an half, then resigned and signed in with IST. Here at least I feel useful. What about you?
You mean what brings me here, fighting for Truth, Justice and the UN Way? As they say, said Franco with a sad smile. Behind every soldier theres a woman. Its the same old story: Boy meets Girl, Boy and Girl becames best friends and they remain friends for four years before realizing that they actually love each other. High school ends and they kiss for the first time. Girl dumps her previous boyfriend. Boy and Girl spend together the most wonderful summer in History, and everything is perfect. Then College starts and Girl meets a nice boy on the bus. She dumps Boy and breaks his heart. Franco stared at the void for a moment, lost in his memories. Anyway, Boy decides to react somehow, shaves his stupid goatee and starts working out at a gym. He works out hard, and one day he suddenly discovers that he can lift everything in the gym without effort. He decides to join IST, and get a new life. By now Boy hasnt still recovered completely, but he feels much better. Franco sipped his beer. Do you know Ashley the intern?
You mean the receptionist back at the base?
Yeah, he nodded. If I ever manage to get together the shattered pieces of my broken heart, shell be the first to know. Isnt she lovely? he asked in an exaggerated dreamy way.
I suppose so, if you like quiet girls with lots of piercings on their private parts.
You ougtha be shitting me! Franco stared at Gaze, appalled.
Yes I am. Gaze smirked. I have to warn you: I saw her wearing Hello Kitty panties, once.
Are you sure that looking under peoples clothes is legal? investigated Franco.
Im not a peeper. When one can see naked every woman he wishes, one begins to appreciate less visible attributes like wow! Gaze stopped abruptly his discourse to follow with the eyes a pneumatic blonde that was passing near their table. The Italian gave him an amused look.
So what? Shes got a sexy liver! apologized Hwa Seung.
You know, thats probably the most disturbing sentences Ive ever heard. Said Franco with a disgusted face.
Does that mean youre not going to finish you fries? I can take them. Asked the Korean with a straight face.
*******
I dont like my eyes because they destroyed my family. Almost whispered Gaze.
Sorry? Franco turned his head to the young Korean. They were lying on the sand of an abandoned beach, after a rather epic quest that had seen them hitting almost every liquor shop of Miami, looking for a Korean spirit that Gaze assured was *bottled paradise*. They had not found it, and had to settle down on vodka. Hence, the need to lay down somewhere. I was born with these blue eyes, even if my power manifested itself only later. Continued Gaze, softly. My parents were both Koreans, and my mother was quite younger than her husband. The rumours spread pretty fast, as usual. Everyone thought I was the son of some European lover of my mother. My father asked for a DNA test. The test proved my mothers fidelity, but it was too late. The trust between them was broken forever. They divorced when I was five. Even when I found out that my strange eyes were actually useful I still preferred to hide them. I can see through the dark lenses, so I can wear shades even at night. Rocambole didnt said anything, quietly digesting the story as a prove of the trust his newfound friend had decided to give him. They stood in silence for a while, then Franco spoke.
Have you ever thought about contacts? You could use the cosmetic ones to change your eyes colour.
I cant.
Why not?
Well, its that you see Gaze mumbled something incomprehensible.
What?
Im scared of putting them on, okay? He said in a semi-whisper. Franco choked.
Yeah, I know its stupid
No! Im not laughing for that. The fact is that Im afraid of contacts myself!
What?
Believe me; Ive always thought I was the only one
Well youre not. Does this make you feel better?
Actually, yes! We could initiate a therapy group! Just imagine Gaze shook his head, laughing quietly.
Anyway, shades are cooler. They make me look a bit like Jet Li.
Youre crazy, pal, face it. Instead of facing his crazy Gaze turned towards Franco.
Rocambole?
Yeah?
If you call me pal again, Ill shoot you in the back while in action.
Ok, buddy.
The same goes for buddy.
What about lad?
The same.
Is chico good for you?
I can shoot you right now if you really want.
Sorry, but without the shades you dont scare me anymore, my blue-eyed son.
An explosion broke the night's silence.
Are you fuckin crazy? You shoot me! It hurts!
-edited to include the corrections. And the end.
Information about the protagonists, from the IST personnel files:
Franco Castelli, code named Rocambole. Born 5/24/86 in Padova, Italy. Joined the IST in the January of 2006, and is currently assigned to Lieutenant Colonel Talons team, in Chicago. His powers include superhuman strength, resilience and speed. He is also strangely elusive to telepathy, and his favourite ice-cream flavour is vanilla.
Hwa Seung, code named Gaze. Born 1/10/83 in Seoul, South Korea. Joined the IST in the March of 2004, and is currently assigned to Lieutenant Colonel Talons team, in Chicago. His powers include telescopic, microscopic and penetrating vision, and his sight extends on an extremely wide spectrum. His reflexes are faster than human and his eye-hand coordination and aim are perfect. He shaves with an electric razor.
Miami, 17 april, 21:32
Miami Beach, Spring Break. Four simple words that decades of teenage movies and pop music had clouded with an aura of myth. They meant sun, sea, party, alcohol and easy girls. Heaven on earth for the vast majority of American teenagers (and hell on hearth for a growing minority, conversely), and for many young foreigners, that gathered there as in some sort of unholy pilgrimage. Franco Castelli, code named Rocambole, had always dreamed to participate in such an event, but now, at the beginning of the first wild, hot, alcoholic night, he was willing to gladly give away one of his incredibly powerful kidneys in order to get elsewhere.
IST Miami had decided to monitor the festivities more closely, to avoid problems caused by young and drunk metas. Strangely enough, the booze industries that sponsored the Break had not been enthusiastic about the idea of having a battalion of UN Powered Infantry as special guests of their beach parties. So the HQ had decided to collect from across the country the youngest operatives, and send them undercover on the beach to keep things under control. *Given the circumstances, the meaning of under control is highly questionable* Thought Franco while a bunch of fratboys passed in front of him, singing loud and rolling kegs of beer.
The guy with purple hair has drug in his pocket. the young Korean sitting besides him said casually.
Franco abandoned briefly his grim line of thought, and gave a look at the subject of Gazes indication.
Which one and how much?
Hashish, a few grams.
I think its better not to blow up our cover for a joint.
Gaze nodded. Fine. Im going to the bar, you want something?
Rocambole sighed internally. As if having to babysit an entire beach wasnt bad enough, the HQ had coupled him with Hwa Seung. The bureaucrats must have thought that being both assigned at IST Chicago they were going to be a great team, but unfortunately they had spoken only twice since Franco had joined the team. Gaze was an extremely reserved person, and was rumored to be one of the most anally retentive operatives ever. Even now, wearing a black T-shirt decorated with a serpentine theme of Chinese dragons, he still managed to retain his professional attitude. Though, it was probably due to his omnipresent shades. Rocambole couldnt remember of having ever saw him without them on.
I take a Cola. Three ice cubes, no lemon, thanks. He needed caffeine, in order to deal properly with the night. Staring at the dark sea from his chair at the bar Franco tried to see things under a different light. It could have been worse: he could have been coupled with Primal, who was currently having her certain time of the month; and his particular beach was hosting a rock concert, which meant additional security to deal with lesser nuisances. Yeah, everything was going to be fine. He almost believed it, until Gaze handed him his Coke. In it there were two ices and a slice of lemon. Franco briefly considered the option of grabbing the bartender by the ankles and using his body to demolish the place, then settled for not leaving a tip. He sipped his drink and turned towards the beach, just in time to see the guy taking fire.
Man on fire, at your 11! Gaze shouted, but Rocambole was already moving, his slender body operating at five times his normal speed . Bright orange flames were erupting from the body of a terrified boy, without any visible cause. Franco grabbed the first beach towel on his way, and tore it in half. Holding a piece of fabric in each hand he leaped over the tables and rushed at the boy. Despite the poor footing offered by sand, he reached him in a matter of seconds. Using the pieces of towel to protect his hands Franco grabbed his target by the hips, and without slowing down carried his screaming and panicked load in the sea. A column of steam rose from the water as Rocambole dropped in the burning boy in, but the flames went off.
Are you okay? Arent you hurt or something? Franco grabbed the guys shoulders, and shook him, but apparently the discovery of his metahuman powers had triggered a religious awakening in the boy, since the only thing he was able to say was an unending thread of ohmygodmygodmygodmygod.
Dont you understand me? Merda! You have to calm down, breathe! The boy tried to stand in the water, but when he lifted his chest the flames burst out again from his skin, forcing Franco to push him down again and to block his arms.
Cant you understasnd what Im saying? You have to calm down! The fire will stop if you calm down! Finally the guy seemed to compose himself a bit, even if he didnt stop shaking. Then he fainted, and Franco had to keep his head out of the water while taking him back on the shore. The young metahuman had lost consciousness from the shock, but he didnt seemed otherwise hurt, even if it wasnt easy to tell, with the molten remains of his polyester shirt stuck all over his chest. Franco deposited the boy on the sand, and started to check him, but was interrupted by two slightly hysterical girls.
What the hell is happening? Marty!
Rocambole stood in front of them, trying to look as professional as his green Pandamonium T-shirt allowed him to. Dont worry, ladies, everything is under control he begun, but the girls resulted impervious to reassurances.
How can it be under control? Marty was on fire!
Well, he isnt any more, isnt he? Retorted sharply Franco, regretting it a second after. *First lesson on dealing with civilians: never, ever, antagonize them. Nice job, you cretin!* He thought, while the outraged shrieks of the two girls menaced to pierce his eardrums. Thanks to the Lord, Gaze came to save him.
Relax, ladies. He stated sternly flashing his badge. We are Agents Gaze and Rocambole, IST. Do you know this young man?
The arrival of a figure of authority changed radically the girls attitude. Yes, he-hes our schoolmate.
Did he take any drugs? Plied the Korean, getting closer to the two.
No! He just drank a few beers! Answered the girl on the left, a bit too hastily to be believable.
Allow me to explain you the situation, miss. Gaze said, coldly staring at her. Your friend here has just exhibited metahuman faculties, and will need to undergo a medical treatment. Until he is able to control his power he will be treated with firekillers. This compounds, if administered to someone under narcotics, are likely to cause a cardiovascular breakdown. If hes on drugs, he will die. Franco couldnt help but stare at his colleague, admiring the way he was quietly terrorizing the two poor girls. Im going to ask you one more time, ladies. Is your friend on any drug?
He smoked some pot after dinner. One of the girls finally answered, staring her feet in shame.
Anything else? Gaze asked the other one.
No, sir. Nothing. She whispered.
Good. The ambulance will arrive within minutes. Gaze said turning towards Franco. Rocambole, hows the boy?
Pulse and breath are regular, but hes passed out. Must have been a shock for him. Reported the Italian, to prove that Hwa Seung wasnt the only pro there.
Fine. Lets take him near the exit, for the paramedics.
****
You did a good job. Hwa Seung said without diverting his gaze from the beach. Franco looked at him, surprised. Ten minutes earlier the ambulance had carried away the unlucky pyro, and the two girls, who insisted on going with him. He and Gaze had filled the necessary forms and gone back to their chairs at the bar, and they had not spoken since then.
"What?
With the man on fire. You handled the situation well. Franco felt surprised to realize how much the unexpected compliment pleased him.
I havent done anything, I just ran into him. Youre the one who did a great job with that two girls! Where did you learn to scare civilians that way?
In the police.
Did you worked in police?
Gaze nodded. Two years, in Seoul, before joining the IST. He explained.
And why did you leave?
I was not satisfied with my job. The Korean cut himself off, and looked back out at the beach.
They stayed silent for a few seconds, then Gaze spoke again. Can you see that?
What?
"A flickering orange light, there. Franco looked at the spot Gaze was pointing at, but couldnt see any light, just a young man juggling clumsily with beer cans.
No, nothing.
It has stopped, right now. Doesnt matter, it was probably just some radio wave. Hwa Seung relaxed, leaning back on his chair, while Franco tried his best not to look surprised. He knew theoretically that Gazes enhanced sight allowed him to see electromagnetic phenomena, but it was still weird to him. He drank a little, noticing how the Coke had became uncomfortably warm, and almost dropped it when Gaze jumped up, pointing at the crowd.
Theres an invisible man, there. Hes completely naked and is sneaking toward the stage.
Is he armed? asked Franco, rising from his chair.
No, but that doesnt mean anything. It was true, being the suspect clearly metahuman in nature his dangerousness could not be estimated clearly.
Rocambole crackled his knuckles. Ok, just aim me in the right direction and Ill do the rest. Wait, lets see what he does. He could have been an harmless prankster, after all, ans after the near-disaster of his first mission Franco was trying hard to be less impulsive.
Hwa Seung nodded. Fine, hes going to the backstage entrance, lets follow him.
It was amazing how Gaze managed not to lose the suspect in the middle of a multitude, Franco thought. Sure, the ability to see through the people had to be useful. Despite the crowd that surrounded the stage, yelling madly at the opening band, the two agents reached the backstage entrance quite fast. It was possibly due to Rocambole, who had been carefully moving away entire armfuls of people, while trying not to be noticed. The stage was definitively a sensitive target for a potential terrorist: it was meant to host a concert of The Top Catz, a rampant newcomer on the Canadian-Meeranar rock scenery. Franco had heard some of their songs, and while they may not have been the Furry Styx some people claimed, they neither deserved to be blown up by some xenophobic nutbar.
The bouncer eyed the two sceptically, but Gaze blazed his IST badge before he could ask anything. IST, sir. We need to get in for a few moments.
Sure, sir, pass. The huge man nodded and made way. *I must learn to show a badge that way.* Rocambole thought while he followed Hwa Seung. To his great surprise the young Korean pulled out a small gun, aiming at one empty point near the stage entrance.
IST! Freeze and become visible! He shouted.
A skinny boy appeared right in front of the guns barrel. He looked quite confused, and undeniably naked.
On your knees, boy. Dont make sudden moves. Rocambole, tie his hands behind his back. Franco grabbed a wire from the floor and quickly executed. The boy was strangely passive, as it was somebody else that was being arrested.
Done. Now we better take Mr. Streaker, here, to the Police. And find him some pants.
Sure, Gaze nodded. but I want him to answer a few questions before. Why did you tried to go on stage?
I was going to jump naked on the crowd, at midnight muttered the kid in a dreamy way. Franco knelt and gave him a closer look.
The guys on drugs, Gaze. Look at his pupils. Theyre wide as plates.
He turned toward the bouncer, who was standing near them, strongly embarassed by his manifest failure in guarding the stage. Call an ambulance, please.
Hwa Seungs communicator started buzzing. Gaze here. He answered. Right. Your position? Were coming, ETA five minuts. Then he turned to Franco. Cleric and Hummingbird need help to calm down some sort of gang. Lets go. They runned out of the stage, barely avoiding the bouncer.
Gotta go, finish the job by yourself. Shouted Franco.
Do you think its something serious? Rocambole asked to Gaze while they were jogging to the beach assigned to the other agents.
Not likely. Cleric and Hummingbird are just not good at scaring people. Franco chuckled Thats for sure! I was in boot camp with Hummingbird, and Ive always thought she was doing a mistake joining IST. Shes too much a good girl.
I agree. And Cleric is just a twerp. It was admirable how Gaze managed to talk without slowing down. He had to be in really good shape, being a non-superfast.
So whats the plan? You do good cop, I do bad cop?
Hwa Seung shook his head. I have got a better plan. I do bad cop, and you do very bad cop. A controlled exhibition of your strength should be enough to intimidate a few punks
Franco grimaced. I like this plan. Maybe this fellow was not so bad, after all. A bit stiff, but not stupid.
Four minutes and sixteen seconds after they came in sight of the target: a small but noisy crowd of people gathering around a smashed table. Most of them were simply bystanders, and there were a few cameras. It was odd how in America nothing seemed to happen without someone videotaping it, Franco thought idly while approaching the scene. Hummingbird was trying inanely to reason with five muscular college boys, who were instead devoting themselves to the annihilation of a Schmultz Beer stand. Franco snorted. Asking support for a bunch of drunks! Patricia Bregu, code named Hummingbird, was a dear girl, kind and deeply religious, but nave and lacking in guts. Her power allowed her to vibrate her body at hypersonic speed, and therefore move incredibly fast. Her codename was officially due to her superspeed and to the green glow that accompanied the use of her power, but Franco suspected that her short attention span was also implied in the choice. She was, however, a nice girl, and Franco had never told her any of the innumerable jokes that the combination of girls and vibratory powers inevitably generates.
Youre here! We cant stop them, theyre completely drunk! Babbled a skinny boy with dark blond hair, greeting them. Cleric. When he first met him at the briefing Franco founded him fascinating, in a disturbing way. He was probably the worlds worst D&D geek, gifted with healing powers and equipped with an electronic mace which affected the neural system of the opponent, short-circuiting his motion centres.
*The guy had though luck when rolling his stats.* thought Rocambole while him and Gaze tried to get a clear picture of the situation from Clerics babble. Apparently, the leader of that small group of hooligans had displayed some sort of energy projection power, half-disintegrating a few barrels, and was now standing on the debris, responding with rude invitations at Pats feeble attempts to talk about it. It was all the two agents needed to know. Franco swiftly grabbed the guys arm and pulled him down. Enough, kid! Albeit clumsily, the guy managed to land on his feet, and faced Rocambole with an arrogant grin.
Whats your problem, man? Were just havin fun! The young Italian frowned. The guy was a goddamn prototype: blonde, handsome, a head taller than him, extremely muscular and tanned.
Three words, kid: International Super Teams. Im Captain Castelli, and I strongly advise you and your friend to stop this immediately. He said sternly, borrowing some of Gazes attitude.
Oh, yeah? Me and my friends advise you IST types to stop bossing around. This is our country, right, guys? As on clue, the other four moved closer, grinning. Franco would have found them menacing, once. Now, he just grinned in response.
You know, guys, Ive been in the States for six weeks, and I was beginning to think that all the stories about American rednecks were only urban legends. But, hey! Here you are! Isnt that wonderful, Gaze? Hwa Seung just nodded.
Cmon Billy Bob, show them what weve got. Barked one of the guys to his boss.
Yeah, Billy Bob, show us. Asked mockingly Rocambole. With an arrogant snort Billy Bob pointed his fist towards the last remains of the table, and unleashed a bright energy beam that vaporized the wood.
Nice. Was Francos sole reaction.
The idiots face went red with anger. Nice? Its gonna be nice when Ill do that to your balls, you IST faggot? he shouted, shoving hard Rocamboles shoulder.
Youre not gonna do anything to my balls, kid, and Ill tell you why. Answered coldly Franco. You have no chance against me, cos Im stronger, faster, tougher, smarter, more skilled, and my butt is firmer than yours. Look. He held two fingers in front of Billy Bobs face, and quickly tapped his nose, which broke with an audible crack. A copious flood of blood spilled on the sand as the boy doubled over screaming, and Franco finished the job with a swift pat on his nape that knocked him out. Before the others of Billy Bobs gang could react, Gaze pointed his small black pistol against them.
Freeze, kids. He said quietly. Rocambole lifted by the collar Billy Bobs unconscious figure, and thrown him to his buddies.
Go away, and take this scumbag with you. I give you thirty seconds. The way the four youngsters stumbled on their own feet in the haste of their escape warmed wonderfully Francos heart.
Why did you just leave them go? Asked Gaze, a bit surprised.
Well, they didnt actually attack us. And besides, it is a very probable that a young metahuman, if put in jail once, will become a full time criminal. If we just scare them, maybe theyll decide to stop til they can. Franco explained with his most charming smile. Gaze eyed him strangely, but didnt say nothing.
Oh, guys, you were great! enthused Hummingbird from behind them. Franco inhaled deeply before turning towards her.
Tell me something I dont know, Pat. Like why did you call us. The girls eyes grew even bigger in confusion.
We had to. We were outnumbered. Asking support is what you do when you are outnumbered. She said carefully, as she was explaining it to a six-year old. Rocambole just stared at her, perplexed. Hummingbird was not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but this was way too dumb to be believed. Hanging around with Cleric was ruining her. Franco decided that there was no point in arguing.
Ok, as you say. Gaze, I think its better if we go back to our beach. The Korean simply nodded, and the two headed back to their assigned territory.
You know her better. Is she always like that? asked Gaze once they exited the other agents earshot.
Franco shook his head. No. Shes too kind, nave, maybe a bit clueless; but shes not an idiot.
Is it possible that she drank something?
No, shes not the kind of person who get high on duty. She hardly get high at all. Maybe she was just tired Franco dismissed the matter, and completely forgot it when a bunch of scantily dressed girls surrounded him.
Cmon baby! Lemme see those abs! screamed the drunkest one, waving a camera. Beside the alcohol smell, they were quite pretty and Rocambole found himself more than willing to satisfy them. Fortunately Hwa Seung dragged him away before he could damage the International Super Teams image.
Rocambole, theres something suspect there. He said pointing at a young girl floating in midair screaming. Franco sighed and dashed towards the girl.
****
Miami, 18 april, 00:07
Another night like this and I resign. Stated Franco sipping his fifth Cola, and even through the shades he spotted a sympathetic look from Gaze. In the previous two hours they had stopped, deterred and occasionally rescued at least twelve minor but turbulent metas who were showing off or brawling. The count included three telekinetes, two pyrokinetes, two flyers, one glider, three with water powers and a kid who could morph in a eight-feet octopus. To their ulterior annoyance, most of them looked under the same unknown drug of the invisible nudist.
Yes. Its like every metahuman on this beach had decided to go crazy muttered the Korean leaning heavily on the bar. He was more upset than tired, Franco thought, probably because he had not been able to identify that flickering orange light that he continued to see here and there for all the evening.
Yeah, guys. Weve never had a Break so messy since Ive worked here. Added the bartender. After Franco had managed to explain him exactly how he liked his Coke, they had started chatting a little. Neil, that was his name, was a true veteran of the Spring Break, after six years passed in his shelter behind the bar.
Wow, how lucky that we are! snorted Franco.
Oh, well at least the videos are going to be fun. Shrugged Neil pouring a beer for himself.
Videos? asked Rocambole.
Yeah, sure. Every year they make a videoclip with all the funny things and the girls flashing. It pays quite well, for what I know
Yeah, I guess it makes good blackmail material Franco smiled at the thought of how much the parents of a young wannabe Senator could be willing to pay to get rid of any proof of their sons wild vacations.
Rocambole, I think we have a problem. Gaze stated, after a quick look at his communicator.
Ok, dont tell me, I wanna guess. Its a giant killer sandcastle?
No, I just had the toxicology report from the hospital. None of the people we arrested is resulted positive to a particular drug. Some of them were positive to marihuana or alcohol, but not in quantities that justify their behaviour. And most of them doesnt even remember what theyve done. Franco groaned, knowing which was the most likely reason behind that.
Great. This smell like mind control to me.
Right. Nodded Gaze. But who would mindcontrol metahuman teens to get them in trouble, and why?
Maybe somebody wanted to keep us busy for all the night. There must be some drug affair going on tried Rocambole without much conviction.
Unlikely. There are at least ten easier ways to distract us. Hwa Seung noted sharply. It has to be something different. Maybe someone wants to discredit the IST, and has forged this mayhem to make us look incompetent.
Yeah, theres many people in the US thatll pay a lot of money for a videotape showing IST Franco stopped abruptly, and looked at the Korean, who just nodded.
I think we should have a word with the man who make the Break videos.
Sure we should. Neil, can you give us some data about him?
I dont know much the bartender shrugged. His name is Dan Preston, hes kinda smug and a loner, but always seems to get every girl he want. And hes got this ridiculous red kart that he use to roam from beach to beach looking for funny things to tape. Ive heard he has quite a knack for it. Rocambole grinned in satisfaction.
It fits decently the Whacky Telepath profile, dont you think?
Im not sure, but its worth a try. Said simply Gaze, leaving a generous tip on the bar.
Good. Ill speak with him, even if hes a telepath he wont be able to get my mind. Franco said with confidence. He loved his strange mindshield.
As you prefer. Its been nice to meet you, Neil. Thank you for the help. Gaze finished his energy drink and the two moved away.
So, how are we gonna find this Preston? asked Rocambole looking around.
Actually I think I already found him. There is a small red kart with sand pneumatics eight hundred meters on our ten. Near it a man with a camera is taping three girls flashing. One has got breast implants. Franco managed to prevent his jaw from falling, but it was hard. This guy was all-seeing.
O-ok. Lets go. While they were jogging to the place that Gaze indicated, which happened to be near Hummingbird and Clerics beach, Rocambole thought about the whole mission. Something wasnt right. He could not put his finger on it, but he knew there was something wrong. To his disappointment, the girls had already covered up when they reached the man. Neil was right about the kart: it was ridiculous, like a rich boys toy. Only that Preston was a full grown man, with an incredible tan, expensive sunglasses and a white shirt half-opened on his hairy chest and a big gold chain around his neck. He would have been perfectly at his place on an Italian beach, but in Miami he looked a bit out of place to Franco.
Excuse me, sir. Im agent Castelli of IST. Id like to ask you a few questions, if you dont mind.
Sure, Agent. If there is anything I can do for you despite his rough appearance, the mans voice was kind and confident, and Franco relaxed a bit.
We would like to see some of tonights tapes he started, making up some bullshit about a possible drug dealing, waiting for the odd feeling of somebody elses mind poking into his own. Or at least trying to poke in. Even the UN metabiologists were not sure about how his mind protected itself. It was not much like a mindshield than a mindmaze. His brain constantly produced a mental smokescreen made from peripheral thoughts and worthless memories, that made the core of his mind very difficult to reach, and impossible to reach unnoticed. Franco loved it. Telepaths gave him the creeps, and It was nice to know that nobody could mess with his head
Rocambole! RUN! Gaze shouted suddenly in his ear, jumping on him. Before he could understand what happened he found himself running away at full speed, with Gaze clutched on his back.
In the hut, run in the hut! shouted again the Korean, who admirably managed to keep his hold on him despite the brisk turn. The aforementioned hut was a little, octagon-shaped sheet-iron cabin devoted to the sale of hot dogs and various other unhealthy food and his door, as Franco noticed too late, was closed. Luckily enough, at a running speed of 160 kmh closed doors have more a symbolic value than a real use. Well, shaky wooden ones, at least.
In an explosion of splinters the two agents rolled inside, hitting hard against the bar. Fuck! Are you alright? Rocambole rose to his feet quickly, quite surprised of his relative well-being: having withstood the better part of the impact he was expecting something more than a cut on the forehead and a few splinters in his shoulder. Nothing broken, just a few contusions. Reported Gaze professionally, adjusting his shades.
Fine. Now would you tell what the fuck its happening?
Remember that orange radiance that I saw earlier? Its Preston that emits it. He was irradiating you while you were talking. Hes our man, but hes not a psi. Franco chilled, remembering how he had reacted to Gazes order, less than a minute ago. He obeyed without a single thought, without even realizing he was obeying. Whatever this Preston guys power was, it had bypassed his mindshield without difficulty. That was bad. Really bad.
I needed to get us out of his range before he could take control. By now, hell probably know that we know. Continued Hwa Seung, looking at the wall in front of him. Or maybe through it. Yes he knows. Fortunately hes an idiot.
May the one without the x-ray sight receive some elucidations? Asked Franco, slightly irritated.
Hes irradiating heavily all the people on the beach, and I think hes sending them against us. Gaze explained. Its a stupid move, he should have run away. Im not going to give him another chance. With a single swift gesture the Korean pulled out his gun and shot two times. Franco was about to ask him if he had gone out of his mind, but realized that Gaze hadnt shot in the direction he was looking before.
What?
His kart is useless now. He wont escape us now that... oh! The disappointment was evident in the agents face, as he extracted from his pocket the crushed remains of his communicator . Bad news. We cant call reinforcements.
Minchia. Muttered Franco. Being cut off from the HQ was not a pleasant situation, given the fact that neither of them was equipped for a real fight: Rocambole was without his armoured jacket and gauntlets, and Gaze was carrying only a small .22 instead of his usual handcannons. And with an angry mob of mind-controlled civilians approaching their improvised fortress, a fight was more than likely.
Rocambole, block the door! Ordered Gaze, while refilling his clip. Knowing it was only a matter of seconds before they reached the hut, Franco quickly lifted the huge refrigerator that was sitting behind the bar and moved it in front of the empty doorframe. Then he turned to his partner.
Ok, tactical evaluation. Look like weve got a yummy M&Ms here. A Mastermind and Minions, I mean. He prcised, answering Gazes unspoken question.
Right, we have to incapacitate the Mastermind fast, and disperse non-lethally the Minions. Added Hwa Seung, quoting almost by single words the tactical manual. The problem is how to avoid his mind control. Before Rocambole could give his opinion, a terrifying noise made clear that Prestons Instant Mob had reached them. Bulges and dents started to appear on the sheet-iron walls, as the mindless youngsters tried to tear them apart with what sounded like sticks and stones. At least there were no firearms, Rocambole thought. He liked to consider himself as on the doorstep of the Bulletproof Club, but even if most guns could not pierce his skin, being shot was still very painful, and left him badly bruised. A group of muscled fratboys, apparently guided by an unrecognizable Cleric, tried to force the barricade on the door, but Franco kept it in place without effort. Preston had Cleric, and probably had been controlling him and Hummingbird since the beginning, using them to drag him and Gaze into his little show.
We need an idea, Gaze! He shouted, but the unfazeable Korean seemed not to listen, his eyes wandering beyond the wall. I think he need to order his minions vocally. That radiation probably operates on the brain, weakening the targets will. He finally said.
So if we plug our ears he cant control us?
Maybe, but its too risky and Augh! Gazes lecture was abruptly cut off as he had to dive on the ground, to avoid a shining green hand that had burst from the wall. Hummingbird. Her vibratory power made her able to turn her hands into two chainsaws with green polished nails. A second hand cut his way through the sheet-iron as if it were paper. Hastily, Rocambole left his impromptu barrier, grabbed Hummingbirds wrists and pulled hard twice, slamming the girls face against the wall. Patricias arms dropped and retired as he left them.
Shes gone, her nose is bleeding. Notified Gaze, passing a hand through his short black hair. God, shes so fast I didnt see her coming.
I hope Ive not hurt her much, shes a good girl. Noticing that the besiegers had managed to move a little the fridge Franco pushed it back with a casual thrust of his foot. So, what are we gonna do?
I dont know if only we knew more about the nature of Prestons power Gaze shook his head. All I can say is that its some kind of modulated microwaves.
Great! Franco snorted. So we are dealing with a living mind control laser? A what? Cmon, never heard about orbital mind control lasers? Its a paranoid thing. You know, the kind of people that The Italian stopped, struck by an idea. Ive got a plan!
Gaze eyed him sceptically. Hope it does not involve a street sign, this time.
Hey, the street sign worked! However, its something better. Hold here. Before Gaze could dissent, Franco left him the barricade, and begun to rummage frantically for something under the bar. The young Korean pointed his feet and pushed with all his strength, but after a few seconds he could feel his arms slowly giving way to the sheer number of his opponents. Luckily, behind him Rocambole shouted Gotcha! and came back to his place. Holding the fridge in place with a hand he waved happily the tinfoil roll he had in the other.
Gaze lifted a single eyebrow. What are we supposed to do with *that*?
Franco told him.
Were gonna die.
******
Im still persuaded that its not going to work. Repeated for the fourth time the Korean, his voice slightly distorted by the tinfoil layer covering his mouth. Itll work, millions of paranoids all over the world cant be wrong! Rocambole was looking supremely confident. At least his voice and posture were confident. The remaining features were completely hidden under the tinfoil wrapped around his head. And everybody knows that tinfoil tampers with microwaves. Gaze shook his head in discomfort. I suppose theres no choice.
Right. Remember the plan: I deal with Pat and the kids, you take Clerics shockmace and knock off Preston. And remember the line I told you. Franco flinched as Hummingbirds hand burst from the wall again. Do I really need to say that to him? Asked Gaze, a bit disappointed. That particular part of the plan was probably the most absurd, and hed gladly avoid it. If you dont want to say that dont. but that line will make everything easier. Answered serenely the Italian. Gaze shrugged Okay. Try not to get killed, colleague. Hummingbird is dangerous. Rocambole nodded seriously. Its the first time I fight someone whos faster than me. Any suggestion?
Aim for the legs. Answered simply Hwa Seung, turning towards the door. Lets go.
From the door? Asked Franco with a grin. Be creative.
A second later the huts wall literally exploded, erupting a really determined Rocambole, who rampaged the crowd, throwing away everyone on his path. In his full accelerated mode fifty mind-controlled teenagers where no match for him: it was like the world had suddenly moved fifteen centimetres closer, and switched to slow-mo. *too slow, honey* Franco thought, bending forward to avoid a beach umbrella brandished by a heavy-tanned girl. One quick thrust sent her several meter away, against another five guys, who fell on the ground in a moaning mess. In less than forty seconds Rocambole cut a way through the mindless mob, enough for Gaze to run undisturbed into Cleric. The tall boy greeted him raising his mace and yelling. Hwa Seung dodged the clumsy blow with relative ease, then shouted the idiocy that Rocambole had suggested him: Cmon, Sasha! You can overcome this Charme spell! Reroll your saving dice! To his much surprise Cleric hesitated for a split-second, which was enough for Gaze to grab his wrist, pivot on the heels, twist his arm behind his back and snap it. Cleric screamed and lost his grasp on the mace, then a straight elbow at the back of the neck sent him face down, unconscious. Gaze didnt mind too much for hurting his colleague so hard. According to his file, his healing power automatically activated every time his body underwent a significant damage. A broken arm was surely significant enough. The young Korean picked up the mace from the ground and secured it was turned on, before hitting the nearest fratboy on the head with it. The guy had a brief spasm and collapsed on the sand. Under the tin foil Gaze allowed himself to grin. Then he rushed towards Preston, waving the mace. Rocambole looked happily at the colleague. His plan was actually working! And a great number of youngsters were running away to escape his wrath. *Looks like mind-control only goes so far* he thought with satisfaction. Then something sharp cut deeply in his side. Franco turned just in time not to get decapitated by a Hummingbird blow. Caught by surprise, he jumped back to earn some time, but Pat reached him even before he could land. Suddenly her vibratory powers were no more a funny thing to laugh about with the guys. She was instead like a blur of green fury. Rocambole somehow managed to avoid a myriad of blows, then tried a few low kicks, that she dodged with disturbing ease. He ducked and grabbed the girl by the belt, but Hummingbird took advantage of his move and he could barely threw her away before she could sever off his arm. She fell with grace twenty meters away, and with a growl rushed at him again.
Gaze swiftly approached Preston, who was trying to force his kart to move. He obviously hadnt noticed the two small holes on the radiator, the only trace of the two perfectly-aimed bullets that had destroyed the batteries of his ridiculous means of transport. Preston swore loud, twisting the ignition key so hard that it broke. With a frightened look on his face he turned towards Gaze and lifted his hands. STOP! Preston shouted authoritatively, literally bathing him in microwaves. A cascade of orange light that only him could see enveloped Gaze, and small blue sparks danced all over his tinfoil helmet. Stop yourself! On the ground! Ordered the criminal, focusing his power. Gaze felt dizzy, but no urge to obey assailed him. Rocambole was right, after all. He swung Clerics mace at Prestons head, but the man managed to duck, and taking advantage of Gaze dizziness grabbed his forearm. It was like being hold with a red hot metal glove. Gaze screamed, but didnt lose his grasp on the weapon. Without leaving his arm, Preston punched him hard in the face. Twice. The pain helped the young Korean to recover, and he kicked his opponent in the guts with all his strength. Preston doubled in pain, losing his grasp on Gazes arm. With a final yell the agent hit his opponent on the head with the mace, knocking him unconscious. Panting, Gaze gave a look to the horrible red burn on his forearm.*Idiot!* he thought. *Microwaves are hot! I shouldve been expecting that.* He carefully unwrapped his head from the tinfoil, discovering in the process that Prestons punch had shattered his shades. With a deep sigh he took them off, then quickly proceeded to block Prestons hands and legs with restraints, and to wrap the tinfoil around his hands. Resisting the urge to rub his burnt arm Gaze started walking back to the hut.
There was no point in trying to be faster, reflected briefly Franco, Hummingbird was faster than him, and was able to work at full speed for a long time, while he could only stay speeded up for a few minutes before getting tired. And the blood loss was not helping him. He had to outsmart her. *How hard could it be? Im smarter than her even when shes fully conscious.* With a grin he leaped on the huts low roof and flipped her the bird. Pat looked puzzled for a moment, then started to climb. With her astounding speed she reached the roof in a matter of seconds, but once there she found nothing but a large hole. She leaned forward to give a better look at it, and felt somebody grabbing her ankle from behind. A really strong somebody.
Surprise! With a quick pull Rocambole tossed the girl on the ground, making her land head-first. With an evil smile Franco faced the girl, who had managed to get back on her feet. She was slightly stunned, and this time her rush was clumsy. Franco just dived at the last second, rolling on the left. He pivoted on a handstand, delivering a vicious break-dance kick to the girls knee. He felt the bones break under his blow, and Hummingbird fell on the ground screaming. *Shit. Too high!* Franco froze. He was supposed to hit lower, to break her shinbone, perhaps her ankle. Not her knee. A knee damage was probably the worst thing that could actually happen to a speedster. She could be crippled for life. He had to do something quickly. Tossing away one or two remaining youngsters he ran to Cleric, who was sitting on the sand rubbing his right arm and appeared to have just regained consciousness. Rocambole, whats happening? Why are you dressed up as Mr. Baked Potato Head? asked the boy, and Franco realized he still had the tin foil wrapped around his head. He tore it away. It looked like Sashas healing power had taken care of his microwaved brain as well as of his broken arm, bringing him back to his usual dumbness. Ill tell you later, Hummingbird is wounded. He pulled him on his feet and led him to Pat, who was whining in pain, curled up on the ground. The healer knelt to her side, and his hands started to glow of a soft golden light. He carefully pressed his hand against Hummingbird injured knee, and held it there. Its not really bad. Sasha said reassuringly. Just a neat fracture on the upper tibia and a few tore tendons. I can fix it easily. Franco felt like an enormous weight was taken from his shoulders when Pat opened her eyes, confused but unharmed. What-what happened? Where am I? she asked. Good Lord, Franco! Youre bleeding!
Dont worry, Pat. Clerics gonna take care of that. We were more concerned about saving your leg. I had to break it to stop you from trying to kill me. The girls eyes grew wide, just like Sashas. What? they both shouted.
You, both of you in fact, had your brains microwaved into submission by a mad videoclip director. Me and Gaze found out, but he sent you and half of the beach on our blood. I had to fought Hummingbird to allow Gaze get him, and believe me, Pat, you were bloody hard to take down. Thats the story in a nutshell. The two stared at him, appalled, for a few seconds. Then Patricia spoke. And where is Gaze? Rocambole realized that he had not seen his comrade-in-arms since the beginning of the fight. Indeed a good question, miss Bregu. Ten points to Hufflepuff. He answered starting to look around.
Am here. Mission accomplished. Said a calm, familiar voice behind him. Preston is handcuffed at his kart, and Id appreciate some medical assistance. Gaze was standing near the hut, with an half smile on his face despite of the horrible red burn on his right forearm. His shades were missing, revealing a pair of incredibly blue eyes, one of whom was blackened. Why do I have to be Hufflepuff? asked weakly Hummingbird, and was promptly ignored.
*****
I liked that T-shirt! muttered sourly Franco observing his own hand poking from the wide hole that Hummingbirds hand had cut in his T-shirt. Now that the equally wide hole in his side had vanished there was time for lesser complaints. Cleric had proved to be more useful than he might look at first sight, healing completely all of them, plus a good dozen of people that had suffered various injuries due to being thrown away like ragdolls by a superstrong Italian, and was now having some rest in the polices car. The beach was now very quiet, everyone who was able to get away on his own feet had left. The police had taken Preston in custody under the charges of assault on public officers, sexual harassment and violation of the laws against mindcontrol and electromagnetic pollution. The young agents were idly filling the necessary forms and enjoying the post-healing flow of endorphins. Please, Franco, let me repay it. Its all my fault! asked for the tenth time Hummingbird, with a terribly sorry voice. Dont worry, Pat. After all, its such a small price to pay for the victory, isnt that Gaze?
Without any doubt. My shades on the other hand
"Oh, cut it off! Rocambole shrugged If I had eyes like yours Id never hide them. Hwa Seung diverted his gaze, apparently uncomfortable with the topic. Anyway I suppose to owe you some apologies, Rocambole. The young Korean looked Franco in the eyes. When I first met you I labelled you as an irresponsible trouble-shooter. I was wrong, and Im sorry.
Rocambole looked at him surprised, then broke into a wide smile. You dont have anything to apologize: I am an irresponsible troubleshooter for most of the time. By the way I thought you were a tight-ass prick. Gaze reluctantly returned the smile. So we are even, arent we? he said, giving an awkward pat on Francos shoulder.
Its so beautiful to see people forgiving each other. Im so proud of you! exclaimed Hummingbird with an irritatingly happy smile. Franco gave her a stern look. Oh, please, Pat! Stop acting! You are not so good-girly as you try to be. Less than an hour ago you tried to kill me!
I wasnt in control of myself she cried out and I did apologize!
Franco snorted, a bit too loud to be serious. Apologies! You were like a rabid beast, girl! When I was fighting with you there was a moment when I thought I wasnt gonna live to watch Ninja Nuns vs. The KGB again.
What? You know Ninja Nuns? enquired Gaze with an extremely surprised voice.
If I know it? Its one of my favourite movies!
Its MY favourite, too!
I cant believe it! Francos face suddenly illuminated, and he grabbed Hummingbird by her arm.
Listen, Pat: do you really wanna make up with me an Gaze for gettin mind controlled and tryin to kill us? he asked rapidly.
Uh, yes answered confused the girl. Franco grinned viciously.
Wundabar. So why dont you be a dear and keep an eye to our beach while me and Gaze have a beer and a nice chat about movies?
O-okay our beach is empty right now, so I think its fine
Great! Gaze, lets go. Ill take you to the Crossfield Pub, and well talk in front of a nice kangaroo-burger!
Are you sure thats oof! Gazes weak attempt of dissenting was cut off as Rocambole grabbed him by the collar and pulled him away. No way, man! I wont let you sneak away now that Ive found out youre human and not some sort of snotty android! shouted menacingly Franco. By the way I also need you to buy the beer
*****
Would you believe it? I can thrash a tank with my bare hands but American law doesnt allow me to buy a beer! Its insane, isnt it? declared Rocambole sinking his teeth into the large hamburger. The night was getting a lot better: after the discovery of a common passion for obscure action cult-movies and a few beers Gaze had put out his all-business attitude and revealed to be a much more pleasant company than Franco would ever have hoped. He was competent, intelligent, witty, and he could legally buy alcohol, four qualities that only seldom came together. You know, maybe the two facts are somehow related retorted idly Hwa Seung pouring some more ketchup on his fries. Anyway, how did you find this place? You see, I ate once in the Wien Crossfield while in vacation, and I felt in love with kangaroo-burgers. I searched the Net for every town with one of these pubs and wrote down every address. And before you ask, yes I do have a lot of time to waste.
Enough time to undergo a Chow Yung-Fat marathon when we get back to Chicago? asked Gaze with a light in his eyes. Before Franco could express his enthusiastically agreement, however, the pubs door was burst open by a coruscating beam. The customers that werent too drunk panicked and ran away, as a familiar figure walked in.
Ive found you, bastards! Now Im gonna kill you all! Billy Bob bellowed, pointing a red, glowing fist at the pair. His boyish features were twisted in rage, but he would have been a lot scarier without the white band-aid on the bridge of his nose and the cotton in his nostrils. Rocambole and Gaze looked at each other, puzzled. You thought I wasnt going to take my revenge? shouted the young metahuman. I hate to admit it, but yes, we do overestimate your intelligence. Gaze calmly answered.
What?
Yeah, cut in Rocambole colloquially. We thought nobody could be so dumb to actually come back begging for trouble after being wasted so hard. Or at least nobody thats not interested in living at the States expenses.
Is that what you want? Spend your youth in jail? Asked Gaze with an apparently genuine interest. Billy Bob stood, flabbergasted. Things were not supposed to go that way.
Cmon Gaze, jail isnt that bad. A good place to work out an meet new people. Its like a hotel, except for the wake up call, thats a bit harsher. But maybe hell like it, wont you, faggot? Franco laughed, tossing at the moron an empty bottle, closely followed by an hastily hurled dish. Billy Bob managed to incinerate the bottle with a beam, but that left him open for the dish, which collided exactly with the band-aid on his nose. Howling, the boy clutched at his newly-injured nose, and before the dish could shatter on the ground, Rocambole was on him. The young Italian knocked out the wannabe-villain with a single uppercut, then looked around embarrassed.
I-Id just wish to make clear that Ive nothing against homosexual people I said that only because I knew he was an homophobic, and I wanted to upset him, ok? he said to no one in particular.
Alright, dude! No offence taken! shouted back a guy from across the room.
Thanks. Rocambole, extremely relieved by the clarification, quickly put the restraints on the unconscious idiot and returned serenely to his kangaroo-burger.
Nice shot. Said flatly Gaze, sipping the last drops of his beer.
Actually I hit him out of sheer luck. The dish was meant to be a distraction like the bottle.
Really?
Yup, the plan was throwing him the table.
You are not one of the subtle kind, are you? Chuckled Gaze. Ive been one for most of my life, I wanna try something new. Anyway, you bring the movies an I bring the food?
Fair enough. Garon, two more beers and the police, please. Called Gaze snapping his fingers.
By the way, I like your tattoo. Franco paled. What tattoo? I dont have any he begun to say, but Gaze interrupted him sternly.
Oh, please! I saw it the first time we met!
You were looking at my butt? Asked the Italian, shocked by the revelation.
No, I just do a complete search on everyone I meet, to make sure. Explained Hwa Seung, as if *literally* undressing with the eyes every person he saw was perfectly normal. Franco decided that discussing the ethical implications of his newfound friends power wasnt worth the time, and capitulated.
Well, this is kinda secret you must swear not to tell anyone. As Gaze seriously nodded, Rocambole continued. It happened two years and an half ago. President Buchanan just got impeached, and I was in London on a school trip at the time. Me and a bunch of American guys decided to celebrate the event with a really epic drunk. He smiled, then shrugged. Woke up the next day wrapped in an American flag, covered with lipstick-made war paints and with *KISS HERE* tattooed on my right buttcheek. Franco chuckled. Anyway, I decided to keep it. Its funny, at least until my parents find out.
They wont know it from me. Promised Gaze with a grave look.
Fine. But now you must tell me why you left Seouls Police. Gaze took a deep breath.
Okay, Ill tell you, although its not a particularly interesting story. I was underemployed. They had an agent able to seek out every drug dealers secret compartment, uncover every smuggler, keep under control every hostage situation, and they hardly gave me any assignments. I dont know why, maybe because I was a meta, maybe because I was too young, maybe both. The fact is that I was unsatisfied. I held on for a year and an half, then resigned and signed in with IST. Here at least I feel useful. What about you?
You mean what brings me here, fighting for Truth, Justice and the UN Way? As they say, said Franco with a sad smile. Behind every soldier theres a woman. Its the same old story: Boy meets Girl, Boy and Girl becames best friends and they remain friends for four years before realizing that they actually love each other. High school ends and they kiss for the first time. Girl dumps her previous boyfriend. Boy and Girl spend together the most wonderful summer in History, and everything is perfect. Then College starts and Girl meets a nice boy on the bus. She dumps Boy and breaks his heart. Franco stared at the void for a moment, lost in his memories. Anyway, Boy decides to react somehow, shaves his stupid goatee and starts working out at a gym. He works out hard, and one day he suddenly discovers that he can lift everything in the gym without effort. He decides to join IST, and get a new life. By now Boy hasnt still recovered completely, but he feels much better. Franco sipped his beer. Do you know Ashley the intern?
You mean the receptionist back at the base?
Yeah, he nodded. If I ever manage to get together the shattered pieces of my broken heart, shell be the first to know. Isnt she lovely? he asked in an exaggerated dreamy way.
I suppose so, if you like quiet girls with lots of piercings on their private parts.
You ougtha be shitting me! Franco stared at Gaze, appalled.
Yes I am. Gaze smirked. I have to warn you: I saw her wearing Hello Kitty panties, once.
Are you sure that looking under peoples clothes is legal? investigated Franco.
Im not a peeper. When one can see naked every woman he wishes, one begins to appreciate less visible attributes like wow! Gaze stopped abruptly his discourse to follow with the eyes a pneumatic blonde that was passing near their table. The Italian gave him an amused look.
So what? Shes got a sexy liver! apologized Hwa Seung.
You know, thats probably the most disturbing sentences Ive ever heard. Said Franco with a disgusted face.
Does that mean youre not going to finish you fries? I can take them. Asked the Korean with a straight face.
*******
I dont like my eyes because they destroyed my family. Almost whispered Gaze.
Sorry? Franco turned his head to the young Korean. They were lying on the sand of an abandoned beach, after a rather epic quest that had seen them hitting almost every liquor shop of Miami, looking for a Korean spirit that Gaze assured was *bottled paradise*. They had not found it, and had to settle down on vodka. Hence, the need to lay down somewhere. I was born with these blue eyes, even if my power manifested itself only later. Continued Gaze, softly. My parents were both Koreans, and my mother was quite younger than her husband. The rumours spread pretty fast, as usual. Everyone thought I was the son of some European lover of my mother. My father asked for a DNA test. The test proved my mothers fidelity, but it was too late. The trust between them was broken forever. They divorced when I was five. Even when I found out that my strange eyes were actually useful I still preferred to hide them. I can see through the dark lenses, so I can wear shades even at night. Rocambole didnt said anything, quietly digesting the story as a prove of the trust his newfound friend had decided to give him. They stood in silence for a while, then Franco spoke.
Have you ever thought about contacts? You could use the cosmetic ones to change your eyes colour.
I cant.
Why not?
Well, its that you see Gaze mumbled something incomprehensible.
What?
Im scared of putting them on, okay? He said in a semi-whisper. Franco choked.
Yeah, I know its stupid
No! Im not laughing for that. The fact is that Im afraid of contacts myself!
What?
Believe me; Ive always thought I was the only one
Well youre not. Does this make you feel better?
Actually, yes! We could initiate a therapy group! Just imagine Gaze shook his head, laughing quietly.
Anyway, shades are cooler. They make me look a bit like Jet Li.
Youre crazy, pal, face it. Instead of facing his crazy Gaze turned towards Franco.
Rocambole?
Yeah?
If you call me pal again, Ill shoot you in the back while in action.
Ok, buddy.
The same goes for buddy.
What about lad?
The same.
Is chico good for you?
I can shoot you right now if you really want.
Sorry, but without the shades you dont scare me anymore, my blue-eyed son.
An explosion broke the night's silence.
Are you fuckin crazy? You shoot me! It hurts!
-edited to include the corrections. And the end.
