෴Raz෴

෴Braithwaite෴

෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴

Pretty Reckless

෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴

Raz advanced on the cluster of armed men. Sensoria wide open, laser-focused on the enemy. By now, each hostile had the red target chevron of Ground Control. Seven older military trucks were arrayed in an arc along the edge of the camp. The two Braithwaite’s each stood near a truck facing away from the camp. In the back of both of the trucks was a large, tarp-covered object. Each of them was marked with the red Ground Control chevron, along with a yellow chevron that indicated Ionized Path.

White Fire crackled around him, each Ground Control target tugging at the vast storm within, almost begging to be incinerated.

“That’s far enough,” the Braithwaite with the PA called out, his voice tinny in the wide-open space.

Raz kept advancing.

Braithwaite’s eyes lit up with glee. “Aim into the camp. Wide arc. Fire if he takes another step.”

The grenadiers snapped their weapons from low ready to high arcing aims in a fan-shaped arc over the camp.

Raz stopped in his tracks. Ionized Path markers appeared over all the soldiers carrying grenade launchers.

Braithwaite continued, “I’m happy to tell you that each of these launchers is loaded with six Sarin gas grenades. If my men are given a reason or the signal to fire, they’ll empty the weapons. With a firing range of four hundred meters, I wonder how far this nice breeze will carry the gas?”

How fast do you think we can take them all down? Can’t let a single shot through.

[Well, considering what you’re really asking, I’d give you a nice round 0% chance of preventing all the launches, even if we hit them all as hard as we can. White Fire won't stop them in the air, and a deadly poison gas leaking out isn’t much better than spraying.]

Yeah. Shooting them down isn’t a viable option, I’d probably get shot myself while trying. Too many guns on his side.

The urge to fight and kill, despite the cost, despite the risk, pressed at the back of his mind as he tried to come up with a solution.

The Braithwaite’s shared a look and a grin. “Would you like to hear about how Sarin gas affects the human body? I’ve studied it,” he flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his out of place white lab coat, “Such a delightful concoction! Did you know that a single breath will kill most people? Just a bit of skin exposure will do the trick as well,” he shrugged, “Not my specialty of course. Chemical weapons aren’t for dabblers. But, I can still tell you in great detail what will happen to anyone within a few hundred meters of impact,” he stopped and smiled, as though having a wonderful epiphany, “No including how far this perfect light breeze will carry it.”

Raz opened the inner gate to White Fire further.

This needs to be total annihilation. No finger twitching, no chance to launch even one.

[You want to fight, but we can’t assure that. The power itself might seem infinite, but your ability to control and channel it isn't!]

One of the soldiers near Braithwaite called out. “We got readings! Anomalous capacitance increases! Big atmospheric charge shift! He’s doing something.”

Braithwaite smiled. “Oh, you are a delightful surprise. You see all this before you, and still want to fight. I don’t know how you kept yourself so well hidden in my games, but bravo my young man, bravo.”

I’ll show you a delightful surprise.

He marked the device and the soldier with Friendly Fire.

The soldier running the detection gear shouted again. “Machine just went dead! I’m getting no readings at all! Remote sensors are still showing high negative charge.”

The closer Braithwaite giggled with what seemed to be unrestrained glee. “Such control! Are you actually blocking the flow of ambient electrical charge into a chosen target? I wondered why you were so valuable. Why else would you be worth so much, to so many? And to think, now you’ll be valuable to me,”

“Not a chance!” Raz looked at the soldiers arrayed against him, then back at both Braithwaite’s. “You’re willing to hold innocent people hostage. Why are you so sure I won't just kill you all? Right here, right now. The world would be so much better without you! If your men launch even one of them, I have no reason to hold back.” He shouted.

The Braithwaite with the PA nodded as though he agreed. “Oh no, you’re right. From what I hear, you’ve got quite the big gun. I didn’t come to fight you,” he looked to the other Braithwaite, “Show him.”

The other Braithwaite approached one of the trucks with a tarp-covered box in the cargo bed.

PA-Braithwaite continued to monolog. ”While I have my doubts about your ability to back up that threat, I don’t doubt you could make a wonderful accounting of yourself. Of course, I have this pretty young thing, and I know for a fact she was one of the people sent after you. Does your willingness to sacrifice include her?”

Not willing to sacrifice anyone! Who is he even talkin—

The other Braithwaite, dressed in the same lab coat and slacks, pulled the tarp away, revealing a glass-fronted box. Inside the box, Nona was arranged like a life-sized doll. She was dressed as she’d been when she escorted Dr. Ivaldison out of the outpost. He couldn't tell if she was breathing. Only the bank of sensor readings that included vital signs told him she was alive. That Braithwaite slapped a button then stepped away from the container.

NO! He somehow collapsed her down and captured her.

“I wonder if you know this young lady? Yes. I see you do.” Braithwaite chuckled, “You know, I’ve seen her die before. She lost one of her copies when it was killed by a chimera in a sister facility.”

He cocked his head to the side, wide smile unwavering, “However, without her copy deployed, I suspect losing her life this time will be a lot more permanent. I don’t know what your connection is to her, or to that overpowered metal-shelled monstrosity, but I’ve wagered heavily that she matters to you.”

Both Braithwaites yanked their lab coats and button-up shirts open, revealing a device of some sort on both chests. “My insurance policy. My heart stops or even goes too fast. She dies, and the missiles launch,” the Braithwaite near the box touched the glass with an overly familiar sort of caress, “I don’t actually bear her any ill will. If not for seeing her ability in action, I might never have come up with the idea of creating simulacrums as an ability. If I hadn’t seen her in action, I’d be dead now. Just like she’ll be if you attack me.”

Missiles? Did he bring all this just for me?

Raz forced his gaze away from Nona. Rage and White Fire thrummed around him, driving him, urging him into the fight.

Enemies! They must die! Fight! Kill! Destroy! An internal voice that was his own, but somehow not his own chanted ceaselessly in his mind.

Between two heartbeats, a long debate raged in slow time within Raz’s mind. On one side, was the knowledge that losing one aspect wasn’t fatal to Hex. On the other, his promise to never allow her life to be traded just because of this. A third faction within him just wanted to kill them all, damn the possible consequences. The internal battle seemed close to stalemate several times, but eventually, he couldn't deny the reality of the situation.

Like a maleficent magician, the other Braithwaite pulled the second tarp off the other blocky object, revealing a boxy device with round holes on one end pointed toward the camp. Raz couldn't identify it, but the device’s entire look said military weapon system.

PA-Braithwaite watched Raz’s face as he kept glancing back at Nona. “I see, I suspected, no, hoped, she was more than just a rescuer. Of course, I have her well sedated. No pesky simulacrums will be popping up while she’s in the box.”

Raz caught himself about to charge before he realized he was even considering it.

“Oh yes, let me be very clear for the sake of this young lady, and the camp full of people just trying to live their lives behind you, This box will explode if my pulse is interrupted in any way. This launcher will take care of anyone the grenades can’t reach,” He smiled, a sickly sweet grin that seemed to have far too many teeth, “Of course, it’ll also go off if my pulse rises too much, and seeing you here, in the flesh? I must confess, I’m getting a little excited about what happens next.”

Ingrid had vanished when he wasn’t looking. She reappeared, leaning on the back of the nearest truck and waved. Raz glanced at her with a frown and shook his head in disappointment.

A soft sound from behind him tugged at his attention. Before he could turn, something hit him from behind. Raz tried to turn around and confirm it as he felt something on his back. Instinctively he reached back and felt around for whatever had hit him. Something was on his shoulder. He yanked it off. Staring bewildered at the long tranquilizer dart, his vision wavered. He struggled to fight and watched in confusion as the dart fell from his slack grip. He turned around to see a Latino man in BDU’s coming out from between a row of tents, walking toward him with a bolt action rifle aimed at him.

Raz staggered clumsily toward Juan. The sniper kept his distance, stepping calmly around Raz’s increasingly ineffective efforts to grab at him.

Gotta… hit….

Raz pointed and tried to unleash a blast of white fire into Juan, only to despair as he watched his own arm sag, then fall limp. His legs grew numb then went limp, along with the rest of him, falling to his knees in the hot sand.

With a supreme effort of will, Raz managed a brief moment of somatic restoration directed at himself. He began to encapsulate and remove as much of the invasive chemical as he could before his thoughts became too hazy to direct the actions of the restoration ability.

The last thing he saw before he passed out was PA-Braithwaite walking toward him with something shiny in his hand.

*** *** ***

Raz hoped he was dreaming. Nightmares would be preferable to the visions passing before his eyes being real. A place deep in the earth, surrounded by the dead, twisted, dark, and cold as the grave. Slashes of energy as bright as the sun. Strange colored blood flowing from red and blue inhuman flesh. A horned head gnashed at him with massive jaws. A monstrous, armored figure swiped at him with a razor-sharp claw. Whole cities swept away in the onslaught of an alien invasion. Gouts of lava spraying from the earth, sheltering an army untouched by heat. Ice-like shards of glass stabbing into him, sent by an enemy that sought the frigid wastes. Raz was surrounded by fallen companions. The bodies of his allies carpeted the ground, layer upon layer collapsing under rot and decay. The living, the dead, the dying—all burst into flames or frozen where they fell.

*** *** ***

“He could be out for hours. Implanting an unconscious target wasn't the plan! I’ve done that till I’m bored of it! I want him awake and able to resist. I want, I mean I need to see what happens when the subject is aware! That’s the whole point of the test.” Braithwaite said from somewhere nearby.

The sound of his tormentor’s voice wrenched Raz violently back into the moment. Like a waking nightmare, the sound of his tormentor inspired a fresh burst of fear. Only the freeze response allowed him to stay still in the face of the threat.

Oh no. Not him! I’ve got to get away!

Through the mental fog, Raz tried to unleash White Fire on them both. The energy swirled around him, then seemed to uncontrollably fall away from him.

Much closer, the other Braithwaite replied. “We don’t want him awake yet. We can barely keep him grounded out as it is. Who knows what it’d be like if he was awake.”

The other made a noncommittal grunt. “I suppose. What can I say, I just want to see his face when that chip goes to work on him.”

Raz slowly, carefully applied Somatic Restoration to cleaning out the foreign chemicals and fog from his head. As he started, the nearer Braithwaite abruptly turned to look at him. Raz allowed Somatic Restoration to fade.

This is turning out to be a terrible limitation. Can everyone tell when I use this?

“Hmm. I could swear he just twitched. It would be better to get him into the room first. Maybe he’ll be up sooner than we think. Are you sure those chains are enough?” The closer Braithwaite said.

Taking physical inventory of himself, Raz realized he was lying on the hot sand, on his side in the shade, with a set of heavy manacles locked around his wrists and ankles. The shape and sound of the moving air told him a building was nearby, somewhere behind him. The soldiers moved around both Braithwaites with purpose, while both versions of the scientist seemed to have nothing to do but talk.

Raz could almost hear one of them shrugging. “Those chains are pure copper, but thick enough you could lift a truck. But, I suppose not totally sure. She said he doesn't act or move like he’s got enhanced strength.” One of the voices stopped, and the other voice spoke up. “Of course, if he took down Fidel, we need to be careful.”

The other one paused and chuckled. “Besides. We still have our other leverage. I think it will be quite persuasive even if he has an ability we don’t have a way to defeat.”

“I suspect we’re right. I just preferred it when Fidel was around to deal with that sort of common problem, it’s what he was best at after all.”

The two Braithwaites puttered around in the area around the trucks for several minutes. Raz cracked one eye open slightly, just enough to see. Around him was an array of thick copper chains leading to what looked like large spikes driven into the earth. Drawing on White Fire immediately saw the power drawn away into the spikes.

He involuntarily stiffened at the sight of two identical Braithwaite’s working together to set up a heavy-duty metal chair with arm and leg clamps, along with a head restraint clamp. The heavy thick straps looked more than strong enough to hold even someone with enhanced strength in place.

Not far from them, just past a portable tray table bearing rows of slim glass tubes, Sgt. Higgs lay trussed up with similar heavy nylon straps. He was straining and struggling. The nylon straps cut into his flesh in several places, but didn’t seem in any danger of breaking.

This was a dangerous and stupid plan. We are so screwed.

The two identical men worked together to lift Higgs into the chair. The soldier fought and wiggled to break free. One of the heavy nylon straps began to fray at the metal buckles.

They’re identical. He said her ability inspired him, but she doesn't make copies. They must have reached a similar outcome with different abilities trees. Bee, can you get me a list?

[The list of abilities that allow you to create a temporary copy is long. If you’re able to significantly injure him, that would tell us a lot.]

Oh sure, no problem. I’ll just pop out of these chains and go lop off one of his heads. That work for you?

[Sarcasm helps no one in this situation.]

Wrong. It helps me cope.

The identical men shared a glance and a shrug before one of them pulled a slim, rectangular, polished metal case from his pocket. Higgs roared in defiance, slowly breaking free of the fraying strap around his knees. A sickening wet pop and his legs and hips suddenly looked all wrong.

Sgt. Higgs choked back an outburst, whimpered in pain, then kept pulling at the strap.

Of course, that's why he had that joint damage. That must be why he had the ‘certainty’ rating for self-injury. He has enhanced strength without the skeleton or connective tissue to back it up.

The Braithwaite with the small case pressed it against the back of Higg’s neck. The soldier twisted and writhed wildly to get away from the touch. A moment later he went limp in his bonds.

“Well, he does count as an alert and resisting subject.” the other Braithwaite remarked.

They untied Higgs, and took a few steps back.

One of them fiddled with an electronic timer. “Well, it’s not one of the new generation chips, but the mark four models are still fun.”

Watching through barely open eyes, Raz watched Higgs twitch and moan on the ground as soldiers walked around him carrying gear somewhere. Watching the time, Raz marked four minutes, thirty-seven seconds before Higgs went very still. The young soldier then spoke in a toneless dry voice that gave Raz the creeps.

“Unit ready for DNA lock.”

One of the Braithwaite’s hurried over to the prone soldier, licked his finger, and touched the back of Higgs’ neck. The soldier went limp again, then seemed to wake up a few seconds later. The moment he started to struggle, the Braithwaite touching his neck spoke.

“Be still,” he said in a calm, clear voice.

The soldier kept struggling, but now he was letting out a constant whining Raz associated with someone trying to suppress a scream of agony.

Soon enough Higgs stopped struggling to rest. The moment he went still, both Braithwaite’s went into action. Over the next five minutes they subjected Raz to a refresher course in pavlovian, operant, and other forms of behavioral modification and control that he didn’t have names for. Each action the soldier took to resist, they turned into a conditioning opportunity. It was obviously not their first time at this.

He watched in horror as they used brutal punishment and rewards in rapid succession to systematically strip the young soldier of his ability to disobey. Higgs only failed to obey when they directed him to stand, and he continued to fail when ordered to stand up on a dislocated hip.

Watching him try to stand and continue to fall, Raz forgot to be subtle. When one of the Braithwaites spotted him awake, they smiled and waved cheerily.

“Enjoying the preview? Don’t worry, we won't be using anything so crude as the rev four chip on you. Oh, no. We’ve got something special waiting for you.” He stopped a soldier walking past, “How long till take off?”

The Chadian told him the plane would be ready to go in ten minutes.

Both Braithwaite’s pulled back their jackets to reveal the heart monitors, then came over to crouch next to him. “We’re so glad to have you back with us.”

Raz rolled away, pulling the chains along with him. He got to one knee and reached for White Fire again. The power flowed, then was drawn straight out of him into the manacles.

They stood, took several big steps back, and shook their heads in unison, expressions more inline with a child’s disappointed parent than a psychopathic scientist. “You see, that’s just the kind of behavior we can’t allow. We’re just going to give you a little something to make sure you don’t cause any trouble in the air,” he wet his finger and felt the wind, “speaking of air,” they repositioned themselves upwind of him.

With that, one of them raised an unmarked spray can. Raz dropped into slow time to dodge, but there was nowhere to go. The spray cone was bigger than his area of movement. He dodged it twice before catching a splash to his face from the strong-smelling liquid. He felt it immediately. The feeling reminded him of comfortably leaning on the back two legs of a chair, only to have it brutally kicked out from under him. His attempts to stand up failed as he collapsed without warning. Every part of him clenched and cramped up violently. His attempts to speak emerged as guttural grunting. As the pain increased,his body felt as though it was trying to twist into barbed wire knots as his muscles tried to tear free from his bones. His body relaxed, then cramped again in a new and unnatural position. Writhing like a skewered insect, Raz struggled to regain control of his body, struggled to think, struggled to breathe.

The last thing he heard was one of the Braithwaite’s ordering a soldier to load him up.