Project: MI

Michael Beck was sloppily slurping up strings of pasta through his lips, his gaze fixated on the computer in front of him. He was bored; frustrated and bored, which, for the mousy-looking intern behind him usually meant very bad things. The very fact that Michael wasn’t doing anything such as ordering him to take care of mindless, meaningless, or impossible tasks and cussing him out for his ineptitude only served to heighten the intern’s anxiety, forcing him to tiptoe around his superior.

Unfortunately for the intern, he tended to be clumsy when he was nervous, and the more nervous he became, the more racket and destruction he caused.

That must be a heroi power, Beck thought, twirling a fork in his pasta again. A bit of an odd one too, though one would think that the military could use it. Too bad it didn’t involve something like anger and super strength. That would be worth something.

Leaning back in his chair, Beck brought his leg up and tapped ever so lightly, and expertly, on a mouse button, changing screens.

I wonder if the CHC’s investigation unit has left yet, he wondered. Idly, he tapped a command on his keyboard and brought up a camera view of Richard’s office. CHC agents were still combing over the scene for any further clues, though what they could find at this point, he could not say. Recorded footage showed that the perpetrator hadn’t done much more than throw a desk and jump out of a window. There was the magic with the doors, but no one was investigating them at the moment. Presently they were busy hauling off some of Romana Pax’s hard drives for ‘evidence’.

Not that they would find anything. He had implemented the Thirteenth Protocol and now locked down nearly everything he was supposed to. Presently he had an army of Romana employees combing the archives and hard copy documents to make sure that ‘no stone was left unturned’. The last thing we need is the IU blowing the whistle because some idiot forgot our policy about printing sensitive information. He massaged his forehead, already anticipating the headache that was to come. Turning, he snapped his fingers.

“Intern!” he shouted, and at once a heavy stack of papers crashed to the ground in one huge flop. Michael took some small pleasure in the look of muted horror as the young man looked back and forth between the pile of papers and his boss.

“Y-Y-Yes?” he asked, his voice wavering so badly that Michael felt he was going to pass out. Fishing into his coat pocket, Michael produced some money and held it out for the intern, who approached and took it warily.

“Get me some pudding from the vending machine. The one on third floor, not the fifth, or the one down the hall. Those ones never taste right.”

“Y-Yes sir,” the intern stammered, still looking absolutely terrified. Michael pressed a finger against his cheek as he leaned into it.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Move!”

The young man was out of the office like a bat out of hell. Michael was honestly impressed at how quickly he left without tripping over a chair leg…or anything else for that matter.

Could have done without the shoe print on the files, he thought, sighing at the mess on the floor. Oh well. You can’t have it both ways.

Getting up from his chair with a groan, he stooped over the mess and started to pile the folders together in a manner that could only be roughly called neat. Tidiness was for those on the lower end of the corporate ladder. For those like him, who were indispensible at their job, he could afford to be a little messy.

Project Illiad… Project Archon… Program Demosthenes… He sighed and shook his head. So much to go through. Who ordered this many hard copies to be made? There are even copies of copies!

The answer was obvious to him, though he was loath to admit it. He preferred hard copies. Paper didn’t require a program or system to all be on the same technology level to be read, and most importantly of all, it was cheap and easy to throw away and destroy in the event that you didn’t want someone to see it. Much better than all the old data files stored away in the archives that periodically had to be updated to make sure they could be accessed when necessary.

Beck was broken from his train of thought by the ringing of his cell phone. Whipping it out, he flipped it open and grimaced upon seeing Richard Steiner’s name appear on the caller ID.

“Beck here. What is it boss?”

There was a light chuckle on the other end, and at once Beck conceived the urge to punch out the wall. If there was anything about the man he didn’t like, it was his smarmy laugh.

“How goes things on your end? Is the CHC still there?”

“They’re not likely to be leaving any time soon,” Beck replied, massaging the back of his neck. His ink-black pony tail tickled his skin and his fingers wrapped around it. “It’s a federal investigation. We’re all suspects until they fail to turn up anything against us. And even then…” He let his words drift off, getting the point through.

“That was the impression their new director gave me,” Richard replied, and Beck could swear that the man had nodded in that knowing way of his, as though he expected everything to unfold the way they were thus far. “In spite of the watchful eye being over us, I feel that we can proceed with the plan ahead of schedule. I’d like for you to pay a visit to our esteemed colleague and implement it today if possible.”

Beck stood there for a moment, stunned into silence.

“I’m…sorry,” he resumed, catching himself again. “Care to repeat that? I could have sworn that you said…”

“I did.”

“Now hold on!” Beck snapped. Reflexively he gave his ponytail a sharp tug, trying to reign in his temper before he began breaking decibel laws. “We’re about to come under oversight and you want me to make things even more complicated?!”

“With the situation on the coast, we’ll be diverting attention away from us. It is the logical course of action if the plan is followed through as we discussed…”

“Except for the little fact that we’ll be filling the airwaves with a mess of frequencies to pull it off!” Beck tugged on his hair again, this time much harder. Unfortunately it wasn’t working. His temper was reaching the boiling point. “Any kid with the right equipment will be able to trace it! I seem to recall that the CHC has just such a kid in their possession!”

There was silence on the other end, and Beck retracted his hand from around his neck to drag it across his face.

“You’re going to order me to do it, aren’t you?”

“The Grey case has been reopened.”

Muscles quivered in Beck’s neck just then as he stiffened.

“Are you…serious?” he asked.

“I overheard the discussion while I was at the CHC. I’m quite serious.”

Beck licked his lips anxiously. This changed everything.

“He’s in our files…” Beck began, an idea already forming in his mind. “His Companion…”

“I thought that would bring you around,” chuckled Richard, irking Beck again and causing him to scowl. “Proceed with the next phase of the plan. I want a hero out of him, Mr. Beck. Please do so.”

With that, Richard hung up, leaving Beck staring at his phone, his mind processing what he had just learned. After a moment of consideration, he began dialing a number. Placing it to his ear, he listened to the ringtone briefly before someone picked up on the other end.

“Beck?”

“Get Project Black ready to go,” he said. “We’re gearing up for our Call of Cthulu Moment. I’ll be down in a second.”

Without waiting for a response, Beck hung up and he dashed out of the room. A second later he was back, eyebrows furrowed as he realized his intern had returned without him knowing it. Quietly he snatched up his pudding.

“I’ll know if you so much as look at the computer,” he warned. “Get out of here. Say you’re sick. Take the day off. You’re fired. Go have fun. See you tomorrow.”

The intern blinked at the contradictory statements, but before he could say or do anything else, Michael was gone again, leaving the young man blinking dumbly at the empty space his superior previously occupied.

Beck strolled down the hallway, hands stuffed in his lab coat. Coming to a halt in front of an elevator, he hit the call button and waited, drumming a finger against the inside of his coat pocket impatiently. The floor buttons ticked by until finally, with a ding, the doors opened. He quickly ducked inside and hit the button for the basement. Down, down, down he went, his stomach rising slightly from the elevator’s motion. Briefly, he thought he was back in college, waiting for his first experience in a Zero-G environment. Looking down at his pudding, he bit his tongue, fighting back the contents of his stomach.

Noodles and motion sickness do not mix, he grated as the elevator drew to a halt and its doors dinged open. Stepping out, he made his way down the winding mess until he came to another set of elevator doors with the label Out of Order slapped on it. Looking over his shoulder, he hit the call button, and the doors slid open without so much as a sound. Upon entering, he dug out his ID card and slid it through a slot on the wall. With a jerk, the elevator descended, and the lights changed first from blue, then to red. An orb dropped from the ceiling and hovered in front of his right eye. A light passed over his vision, and he blinked reflexively.

“Retina scan complete. Identity confirmed. Michael Beck. Head Researcher and Developer. Employee Identity Code…”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s move on,” Beck cut in, waving the machine off as the elevator came to a jerking halt. He hated it. The cables always felt as though they were just shy of giving away at any moment. When its doors opened, he couldn’t have been happier to get away from it.

“Beck!” called out a bronze-skinned man with a bright smile on his face. Beck nodded to him and made his way over.

“Mr. Anderson,” he greeted.

“So the boss man made the decision?” Anderson asked, his smile declining a bit.

“Yes he did,” he replied, and he relayed the information that he had been given by their respective superior. Anderson whistled in response.

“You sure he’s not panicking?” he asked. “I heard about the investigation…”

“Everyone has by now,” Beck cut in as they made their way through the lab. “That doesn’t mean that he’s panicking. Richard’s an opportunist after all.”

A woman approached him and handed him a clipboard detailing a medical evaluation. He flipped through the pages almost casually, barely bothering to read through it. As long as no one told him the individual on it was in danger of dying, he didn’t see a reason to be concerned.

“How soon can she be ready?” he asked, handing the medical chart back to the woman.

“We’re charging the system up now. She’ll be plugged in in no time.” The two men rounded a corner. “I’m a little concerned though. We’ve gone through a great deal to reprogram her, but we’re seeing a bit of a spike in her brain patterns.”

“Just a bit? That doesn’t sound like much.”

“It is, because the human mind doesn’t react well to the sort of stressors we put her under. Heroi don’t react any better…in fact they’re worse. And now we’re pumping her full of extra power…

“Are you going somewhere with this?” Beck asked impatiently. He knew what her response would be though, but for right now he was merely Steiner’s voice no matter how much he hated this development.

“The human imagination doesn’t know any limit,” Anderson replied as they approached a steel-plated door. “She could have an angry demon inside that we don’t know about.”

Blue light glowed ominously behind it as Beck withdrew his ID card again and slid it into the card recognition slot.

“As long as she’s kept under the Seal of Solomon and we’re careful, then even demons can’t break loose and wreck havoc upon our souls.” The lock on the door deactivated and Beck pushed it open. “Now let’s go see what kind of beast we’re about to let loose upon the world. Richard wants the Millenium Hero trained up on it so he’s ready for the real deal.”

“As you say, sir,” Anderson replied, and the two entered the room together.

This is the place, Kira thought, checking her directions again before folding them back up and pocketing them. A dark-green mailbox numbered 298 with a faded cat painting looked up at her with large eyes, but she ignored it. Taking a quick look around, she walked up toward the doorway and ducked down the alleyway that lay to its right. There were no vehicles present, suggesting to her that she was free to investigate—or rather freer to investigate than she would have been otherwise.

She was almost disappointed that there was no one home.

This kid had better be worth it, she thought, looking up at the solitary window above her. Closing her eyes, she activated her Q Field and levitated up to it. Taking a gander inside, she didn’t find anything of particular interest. The room was dark inside, and what light filtered in failed to reveal much further beyond a pale white, fluffy carpet.

She wondered if she could get in and investigate more directly.

Better call Mal… Pulling out her phone again, she floated up to the roof and set herself down, withdrawing just a bit so as to not be so obvious to the windows in the neighboring house. She quickly dialed the number and waited for the buzzing to stop.

“Need something?” asked Malcolm on the other end.

“I’m at the kid’s place,” she replied. “I need to know if it’s got an alarm.”

“They aren’t there?”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“Hold on a second.” A pause. “All right. They shouldn’t have an alarm system, unless they failed to report it. You should be fine, but… Why do you need to break in?”

“Might as well, so that this trip isn’t a total waste,” Kira replied before abruptly hanging up. Reactivating her Q-Field, she floated back down to the window and placed her fingernails beneath the cracks. This part would be difficult, and she hoped that she could pull it off without causing too much damage. Taking a deep breath, she threw her power into the muscles of her fingers and summoned every bit of self-restraint she could before pushing the window upward.

There was a loud metal snap and she cringed, waiting for someone to shout, be it from inside or outside. When neither happened, she inched her fingers beneath the gap she had created and lifted the window. Quickly getting inside, she placed her feet on the carpeted floor. She was standing in a hallway, just a short ways off from the stairs where the front door was. As for the house itself, it was as quiet as a grave.

“Okay,” she breathed, setting the window back down. She inspected the damage. The lock was broken. No two ways about it. As fortune would have it, it was an old lock though, of a kind that she saw at her grandmother’s house. It was a half-moon object that turned into a metal slot. Crude compared to the computerized security devices, but tough. A nasty crack ran the length of the slot, but it all but disappeared upon settling back down. It was unlikely that anyone would notice right away.

If they did, they’d probably blame it on its age. With that, she took off her sneakers and tied them around her left arm by their laces. Don’t want to go tracking any mud through the house, she thought. Looking around she spied three doors to her right, one with a picture of a badly colored-in white rabbit hanging on it, while the other two were blank slates. She tilted her head to one side and gave a snort at the childishness.

I thought this kid was about my age, she mused. What is this, a six-year olds work? Approaching the door, she turned the handle and pushed it open. It swung inward easily, and Kira immediately made a face upon tasting stale air.

Holy… No one’s breathed in here for a long time, she thought with disgust, turning on the light, revealing what she could only describe as a child’s room. A child in the terms of one barely out of kindergarten. Stuffed animals of all kinds lined wrinkle-free blue bed sheets, and a yellow quilt was folded neatly at the end. Drawings of varying degrees of scribble dotted the walls, next to a picture of the solar system. Here and there were newspaper clippings and magazine articles breaking up the pictures. A black and white photo of a man wearing a caped costume bearing the image of an M emblazoned on his chest stood on a nearby nightstand. His hands were on his hips and his face, handsome and strong-chinned, bore a proud, victorious smile for the camera. Kira recognized him as a relic of an earlier age… The Golden Age.

Millenium Man, she thought, stepping toward the picture for a closer look. Yes, it was him all right, just as he looked in every history book that had his face plastered in them. Strong, courageous, and never doubting his victory in the face of overwhelming odds

This isn’t his room, Kira thought, deciding that she had dawdled here long enough. She found the place rather disconcerting, if only do the way the air tasted upon entering. It was almost a dead place that saw little activity. It didn’t make sense though, as the information Malcolm sent her told her that Jamie was an only child. If that wasn’t the case…

Exiting the room, Kira closed the door behind her. There’s still two more rooms to check out. Either one of them is the real deal, or I’m dealing with a basket case.

She prayed she wasn’t dealing with the latter. Heading over to the next room, she pushed it open. This time she was greeted with a similar scene, a room that suggested that a kid lived in it, but this time the scribbling attached to the wall and the toys that dotted almost every conceivable space suggested a maturity level that was further up on the age bracket.

“Here we go,” she said, her lips curving upward in a relieved smile. Entering, she took a closer look. Drawings were filled with fantasy warriors, spaceships, soldiers, and fighting vehicles—both of the standard and the transforming kind. There were some books, games and comics as well of similar variety. Nothing that she felt was out of the ordinary as far as she was concerned. The state of the room was slightly messy. Very much what she expected from a boy at the age of thirteen.

Something snapped beneath her foot and she bit back a curse, realizing that she just accidently crushed what looked like a small space marine of sorts. Picking it up, she pocketed as many of the smaller, broken pieces as she could and dumped the larger piece in her shoe for safekeeping. She hated doing so, feeling like she was a thief, but she couldn’t afford to leave any evidence behind. At the very least, kids with rooms this messy were losing things all the time. She doubted he would think otherwise.

What is it about this kid that Romana Pax is so interested in? she wondered. Her eye wandered over toward the boy’s desk, and at once she took an interest in a charger. On its side, it bore the markings of Romana Pax—an Eagle clutching a quiver of arrows in its claws.

A Companion charger! she realized, at once remembering something Malcolm had wondered about the corporations sudden interest in the boy; about how he could be a repeat of her sister.

They wanted him. Therefore he was the key to finding her sister. Clenching her hands into tight fists, she found her whole body shaking. She knew now what she was going to have to do to find Ran. She knew how she would be viewed by doing so. Unfortunately, she had no other choice. She would flush out Romana Pax and use them to locate Ran.

No matter what the cost, she would find her.