Onto The Stage (Part 2)

Daniel groaned and tried to open his eyes. Having a concussion sucks. It's like operating your body over a bad internet connection. Every movement takes seconds— his eyes flew open, and he was sprawled across the concrete floor of the theater. His gun was still in his hand, so he sat up and pointed it at the first thing that moved.

"Daniel!" Sam yelled from the wings. She was five, maybe six feet above him.

"Where is the monster?" Daniel tried to ask. It came out as a collection of noises instead. Something like "Wrdmsnstr?"

"I don't know." Sam said, climbing down to him. She, apparently, spoke 'concussion'. "I think it went that way."

She pointed at a trail of the thing's tar like black blood. It led further into the orchestra pit behind some storage crates.

The black blood. Daniel had killed the thing with silver bullets, and it had come back angrier. He cursed under his breath, just as Sam reached him.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Not really, Daniel thought. He wiggled his toes, fingers, felt his ribs.

"Yeah" he said, "Good timing on the explosion." She'd probably saved his life; the monster had been jumping right at him.

"Was that a— tier 3?" she hesitated then whispered the last part. Scared that it might be true, or worse she might be wrong.

Daniel nodded, which was a mistake. The whole world spun, and he spent the next thirty seconds practicing his breathing and not throwing up.

Something clattered at the other end of the building. Flashlights pierced the thick fog of sawdust. The black masks had arrived.

"Green!" Daniel choked out. "Green, Green, Green."

That didn't stop them from pointing their guns at him, but they didn't shoot. "Are you injured?" one asked in a thick Texan drawl. He might have been the guy from the helicopter. Daniel weighed his options. There was the possibility he needed serious medical treatment. If he did, he'd be taken off immediately. He or worse, Sam would be blamed for losing the lead and getting themselves hurt.

"No." He said. He remembered the soldiers on the helicopter, all grouped together making jokes. "Hell of a headache though."

It worked, drawing a rolling chuckle from the assembled soldiers.

"What happened?" Ms. Henderson demanded, and the chuckle stopped.

"We were building a profile of the phenomenon, when it attacked."

She stepped up into the space where the curtain had been, her black suit covered in grey sawdust. Sam wrinkled her nose. A micro-expression of dislike, anger. Daniel felt his brain coming back online, the delay getting shorter.

"You didn't know it was here?" Ms. Henderson asked skeptically.

Sam cleared her throat. "It didn't leave any trace of magic. I don't think it was here until it attacked us."

Daniel almost smiled. Sam was getting quick. Ms. Henderson sneered. "And why, Samantha, did you almost kill your fellow operator?"

All the newfound confidence crumbled.

"She saved me, Ms. Henderson." Daniel said. "Silver bullets only stunned it."

A ripple went through the soldiers at that. The Texan, maybe a squad leader, spoke up again. "You're sure that you hit it?"

Daniel nodded. "At least ten times, three in the head."

"Well then," Ms. Henderson said, "That would make it a Class III Phenomenon."

The soldiers insisted on checking Daniel for something that involved a reflex test and some bandages around his left hand which had taken a few nasty splinters. Ms. Henderson had stepped back somewhere else to report, which wasn't like her. Maybe, Daniel thought, she was losing her grip. He didn't trust that to last.

Sam stuck next to him the entire time, probably just because she felt guilty. Honestly, she had done perfectly.

At nightfall, Ms. Henderson pulled the Texan and Daniel together in the Denny's parking lot, where the soldiers had set up an operating base.

"Okay Operative," she said, "Give me your profile."

They were still hunting, she meant. She'd communicated it without saying so, without leaving it up for debate. Daniel ran through his mental notes.

"It's about five feet tall. Moves like a big cat, most like a Panther. Silver does hurt it; I drew a significant amount of blood."

The Texan shot him a look. "That black stuff?"

"Yeah." The soldier was getting used to talking to him. This was the most he'd ever spoken to Daniel. Or the most Daniel had ever spoken to a black masked soldier. Normally, Ms. Henderson ran interference. She probably couldn't do that at this point. They were already too involved. That meant she wasn't in command of the soldiers, at least not firmly.

"It moves quietly. It got the jump on me, which is hard." (It was, technically true. Daniel had been distracted opening the hatch.) The soldier looked at Ms. Henderson for confirmation and she nodded. "If this Operative didn't hear it coming, none of your men will" she said.

Another win, Daniel thought. If he could work directly with the soldiers, he could start to undermine Ms. Henderson further.

"It doesn't like light." He said, "That's probably why it was in the theater."

"What can we do with that?" the soldier asked, gesturing around them. The sun was drifting behind the Shell sign across the street. They had maybe another thirty minutes of daylight.

"Defense. It ran away when Sam took out the floor."

He nodded. "We have some flash grenades."

"It's smart" Daniel continued, "it will treat us like a pack of prey and avoid us in numbers."

"And your sure silver will kill it?"

Daniel shrugged. "My sidearm hurt it."

The soldier hefted his rifle and nodded. "That sounds like a probably, kid."

"It will have to do, Bennet." Ms. Henderson said. A name! Daniel almost grinned again. She was making all kinds of mistakes today. "Split your men into groups, let's assume the downtown is well lit enough to be safe."

Bennet nodded. "Do we have any— additional assets coming in for this one Ma'am?"

He meant Operatives, Tracers, but he couldn't say it.

Ms. Henderson shook her head. "We can handle this with the team we have."

Was that a tightening of her forehead? Daniel couldn't be sure in the fading light. She might be under more pressure than he thought. She nodded curtly, dismissing the soldier, then turned to Daniel. "Take Samantha, shadow the second group. Don't get in their way."

She had noticed the progress he was making with Bennet after all.

Daniel nodded. "Copy."

She went back to her laptop and Daniel took a few steps towards where Sam was eating (Takeout from the Wendy's), just to make what happened next seem spontaneous. Then he turned around and jogged past Ms. Henderson, catching up with Bennet.

"Bennet." He called, slowing the soldier.

The man was huge, built like a football player. One of the receivers, maybe. He had those kind dad eyes under a mop of close-cut brown hair. Daniel had him in the palm of his hand.

"What is it, kid?"

Daniel swallowed, like he was embarrassed. He could be the 'kid'. "Nothing, I just emptied my clip into that thing back in the theater."

Bennet grinned, a genuine smile that wrinkled the corner of his eyes. "You need a refill?"

"Well, I've got lead in it right now, but that's not going to—"

"Say no more."

Ms. Henderson watched him with suspicious eyes. She knew what he was doing, and they both knew it. But she couldn't prove anything. And she'd set that freak Ellis on him. It felt good to get one over on her.

Bennet led him over to the rest of the soldiers who stood around comparing maps of the town and eating Denny's. "Ecks. We need 9mm, silver for the gunslinger."

One of the black masks jumped up and moved over to a crate on the ground. Daniel had seen them taking them off the Chinook earlier. He'd seen them taking the crates off every mission for years, but never wondered what was in it.

"How much?" Ecks asked. He was shorter, Asian American. Also, in his late 20's or early 30s. Daniel wondered where The Agency recruited from.

"Give him two mags."

"Thank you." Daniel said. Then, "My name's Daniel. If you ever need anything from me."

Bennet smiled. "We've been working with you for years Daniel, we always need something from you."

Daniel put on a smile, easy in the face of flattery. "Well now you can ask directly."

"Ecks, you're with Daniel. Lead him and team two on the west side."

Ecks actually shook his hand. By the time he turned around to jog back over to Sam, Ms. Henderson was visibly seething. Daniel felt like he was walking on clouds.

Ms. Henderson had thought she could run him. What was it Jefferson had said? Tie him to the tracks. She'd forgotten everything she'd taught him. He'd spent years working for her. He knew exactly how she kept him under control. He knew exactly how she split him up from Sam— by keeping them from standing up for each other. She had thought she could keep him away from the soldiers that had relied on his information for years. But he looked like an adult now, they weren't nearly as squeamish. He'd undone years of control in an afternoon. If only his head didn't hurt so much.

And there was, he reflected, the small matter of the Class III. It was waiting somewhere out in the dark. If he didn't catch it, she could still claim credit for everything.

On the other hand, she'd split him up from her.

That made it a race, and he hadn't told her everything.