Chapter 51: Calm Before The Storm Part II

Ed grunted, glancing towards Becky. The group was together, all five of them, currently surrounded on a street only five blocks away from the ruined compound. Ordered to get out of the car at gunpoint, they complied as Victor spoke, "No rash moves, ladies and gentlemen. You know the drill. Keep translating, Becky; we wait for Mark.

Ed snorted as he complained, "We could take them, Victor. Look at 'em. Fuckin cops and wannabe special forces, fucking pussies, the whole lot of 'em."

"And what? Kill them? On live TV? Our faces are hidden, Ed; so are our loyalties. But if Mark comes back, and we're slaughtering them, we're fucking him harder than ourselves. Worse than we already are. So, shut the fuck up, stop being a psychopath, and don't break rank."

The younger man grumbled to himself, Becky speaking up to translate, "The usual. Drop your weapons and come quietly. Probably don't need to tell you, but not a smart move here."

Sasha's eyes flittered around in her suit, "I could... try? Sayeed might be able to get us out of this?"

"That would be unwise, Sash." Barak spoke into the comms, "HAP indicated the Moroccans are working with Secundo. This lot aren't going to leave you alone, even with your connections."

She sighed, "And, how long for Mark? Going after the guy alone was not the brightest decision by him."

Ed spoke, as irritated as the security forces surrounding them at their non-compliance, "This entire operation wasn't the smartest. Russo got played and tied up in emotions. Now, look at us. Suicide missions at least succeed; this went sideways from the very beginning." He paused as more units entered the scene, "Seems like Moroccan Special Forces and Gendarmerie. Great."

"We're going to get shot if we don't do something, Vic." Eric uttered as he inspected the aggressive opposing force, "We... could surrender? Mark vouches for us. I'm not sure they would be willing to piss him off after what just happened, even with the US. And, honestly, I don't see a better option unless we kill them and Mark doesn't get involved."

Victor annoyedly grunted, "HAP, you said Mark fought five Invincibles, right?"

"Affirmative. All are deceased, according to Mark."

"Hmmm. If they brought five, they might have another here. We surrender... we might end up dead before Mark arrives." He turned to Becky, "Stall them. Any time is good."

"What? What am I even... ugh, fine, I'll do my best." The woman replied in slight annoyance.

A few minutes passed with Arabic shouting going back and forth, neither side wishing to come to blows. The rain poured, giant puddles forming along the road like rivers, and the sidewalks were crammed as news crews swarmed the city like locusts. Regular citizens stayed indoors during the martial lockdown. The older generation vividly recalled the civil war roughly five decades prior as the current situation evoked similar emotions.

Becky spoke to the quiet group, "They've had enough; we need to drop our weapons. Now is the time. We either fight, or we waste time in surrendering."

"They have more to lose fighting us than we do. Guess we kil-"

A whooshing sound could be heard above, the wind whistling as something hurtled towards them at speed, striking the street with a thud to their left. The impact spooked the surrounding forces, the molten eyes from within the haze of dust and sand beckoning them to pull the trigger. Despite this, no one fired, everyone surprisingly keeping their cool.

Stepping out from the small crater, rain dripping from his growing dark brown hair and spots of dried and fresh blood staining him, Mark glanced around. Snorting at the Moroccan security forces, he walked towards the group before casually greeting them.

"Well, everything seems to be going to shit. We need to get back and try to salvage the situation. Get in the car; we go back now."

The team glanced at each other before shrugging, everyone slowly getting in as shouts erupted. Mark turned towards them, the officials from earlier irritating him, and now the soldiers continuing it. Narrowing his eyes, he glared at them. He spotted Aaban forces arriving with their distinct national flag plastered on their uniforms: a red crescent and star upon a horizontal background of white, black and green stripes.

BANG!

Tapped by a bullet, the projectile crumpled from hitting his skin; he stared at it on the floor before returning to looking at them. His eyes narrowed further, red appearing as his laser shot out. It didn't stand a chance, the street's asphalt melting as he dug a trench in front of the soldiers and police, his meaning unmistakable.

Facing away from the crowd, helicopters buzzing above, he picked up the car from the back before shuffling towards the middle. The weight stabilised as Mark slowly and carefully ascended into the sky and headed back towards France.

"I won't lie." Ed uttered inside the car, "I thought he was going to kill them all."

Sasha shrugged, "He was well within his rights to do so. They shot him. It's like shooting a nuke and wondering why it blew up on you. Pretty stupid."

Ed chuckled, after a brief pause, "You have a weird way of saying things, Frenchie."

The pair conversed for the remainder of the journey, Becky occasionally inputting her opinion. Eric and Victor sat in silence, contemplating the mess they had just experienced as Mack and Barak relayed information to them. They arrived at Tayi's Britanny facility half an hour later, the rain still pouring, the ground soaked and slippery.

Mark set the car down, the group clambering out as he stretched his arm, the pain in his chest unrelenting. Walking inside, they headed straight to the control room to meet with the remaining trio of the party. Taking off their helmets, they all sat down around a table; the three already there sat down beforehand. A TV blared the news to the group; Mark one of those paying attention to it.

Victor huffed loudly, "You want to tell us what the fuck just happened there? Barak? Russo? Each of you experts in this shit, with a fucking supercomputer and the entire team almost got obliterated. What the fuck happened?"

Russo shrugged, defeated, as he stared at Mark, "We got outplayed, Victor. A series of fuck-ups culminated in that disaster."

Mark watched the television, the news broadcast showing a familiar face, Abigail Moran, for the Irish 'The Star Bulletin.'

"...erupted from the building we covered earlier this morning. The rampage continued, towards Menara Airport, in which he murdered roughly 20 Moroccan soldiers, including 3 officials working for the state government. No explanation has been given by either Tayi or Mark Evans at this time. Unfortunately, this was not all. As you can see, Air Flight AM212 went down after turning back towards Morocco, reportedly experiencing turbulence. Mark Evans was seen chasing after the plane only 20 minutes before it crashed, leading to speculation that he was involved, especially considering the previous events. As to why... we do not know..."

Russo shook his head as he muttered, "I told you."

Victor scoffed in disbelief, "...fuck right off. This is a joke. Not only did we fail... we're now international criminals, with Mark getting lambasted on TV. Holy shit. Are you going to say anything? Barak? The very thing you swore to not let happen happened. Was your previous team a fucking lie?"

Barak's eyes sharpened under his shades, "Victor... let's not go there. This conversation will lead nowhere. Let's calm-"

"Calm down? Barak, we are fucking fucked! Mark's reputation is in the gutter; we're going to be hunted down by Interpol or some other organisation. America will probably join in as well. What about everyone's families?"

Russo sighed, "Victor, calm down. It can be sorted. We just need to not do anything rash."

Eric patted Victor's shoulder as he spoke, "And how do we sort it, Russo? We went in on your intel; we went in with your permission and prerogative. Thus far, all I've seen is the Americans play you like a fiddle. Our lives are collapsing around us because you got emotional."

The man's eyes flared as he stared at them, "When your family is tortured, raped, mutilated, killed. I'll be waiting for you to not get emotional. That wasn't the problem."

Victor laughed before talking, his voice deep and gruff, "Wasn't the problem? Then what was? The fact we have a semi-intelligent AI with access to practically the entire world's internet and devices, and we didn't know he moved? We didn't know it was a trap? We didn't know the Moroccans were involved?" He glanced at Russo, Mack and Barak, "Is this not your job?"

Mark watched the conversation in annoyance, his frustration growing as they spoke, oblivious to his hearing returning. He watched as it got worse, unsure whether he should cease the argument.

"...Russo, you fucking pay us! Everyone follows your orders. We are all deeply sorry for your loss, but this quest for vengeance cannot go on. You can't use the kid as your own personal fuckin executioner."

Russo sneered at the six-foot figure, "We are in a partnership. I gave him everything I have at Tayi, and in return, he hands me Secundo on a silver platter. But I get it; I really do. I understand your projection. At least, I'm honest I am using him; we use each other. You guys use him without his knowledge, like a pawn. Your... 'candidate'."

Mark rubbed his forehead with one hand, "Can you guys just shut the fuck up for one fucking moment. I'm the one who's in a fucking hole, not any of you."

"...you can hear again?" Russo stuttered to Mark's annoyance.

"Yes, I can hear again. Kinda obvious, no? Now, how about we all calm down, piss about for a few hours, and reconvene later? This operation wasn't a complete failure. I said I had a way to get information from Secundo. And I have. There's just no point saying anything with tensions so high."

Ed stood up, ready to leave, "I agree. Too much arguing; I'm here to do my job, not get into petty fights over blame. Let me know when we're back.

Having said that, the spiky-haired Ed walked out, Sasha nervously following Becky as they left. Eric nudged Victor, nodding in the door's direction as they turned to leave, Mark standing before looking at Russo.

"I'll explain my hearing, what happened and everything later. My hearing aids got destroyed; have you got any more? HAP was... useful."

The man rubbed his face with his hands before looking back, "Down the hallway, you'll see a sign called R&D 1. Go inside, look for Bicker. She's old, so it shouldn't be super hard."

Mark nodded appreciatively, following his instructions and entering a spacious section of the facility. The room was filled with technology, mechanical pieces, materials and workers - presumably scientists and engineers - going about their daily business. There weren't many, considering the time barely reached five in the morning on a Saturday. Walking further inside, he questioned a worker about the woman named Bicker. Pointed to an elderly white woman standing at a desk stuffed with items he couldn't decipher on the other side of the room, he walked over.

He coughed to get her attention, the woman turning to face him and raising an eyebrow, "Mark Evans. A pleasure to finally meet you. Your eyes are a lot scarier than they are on TV. Could also probably use a shower, you've got blood on you."

"Oh, uhh, thanks. You, are Bicker?" Mark asked, unsure whether he should recognise her.

"Allison Bicker, part-time mentor to the two brats fighting. Seems I'm not as famous as I used to be." She laughed at his confusion, "I was Eneph's friend and co-inventor slash colleague. I helped with Michael and Aayan's development when they were youngins."

Mark raised an eyebrow, "You... were part of the Fantastic Four. One of those who created the Artificial Fuel in the 70s? Wow."

"Ugh, that nickname was always cringey. But yes, that would be me. Albeit, a decrepit and soon-to-be-dead version."

He nervously chuckled, uncertain whether he could laugh at the dark joke, "What was he like? The man who changed history. It's a shame most of his inventions are now being used to kill one another."

She had a smile, friendly and welcoming, with a tinge of nostalgia and sadness, "Eneph... was a once-in-human-history type man; he cannot be replicated. Neither can his successes. His innovations have truly stood the test of time. Although, as you say, it is primarily the weapons of death and destruction. A shame. It wasn't what he stood for. A kind man, one of the progenitors and a big proponent of a united humanity. He was taken before his time."

"Seems to be a recurring theme with extraordinary people. What about his successors? The ones you mentor, Russo and Sishaf? I... I wouldn't say they live up to being... the same type of man." Mark cautiously inquired.

She snickered, "They are smart men, don't get me wrong. But, smartest men in millennia? A load of shite. Everything from HAP, the foundations of Tayi, to the 1st iteration of the S-Phone; he was involved. Those two brats fight over what he left. His legacy." She sadly sighed, "They could never live up to it. And, from the news, it seems their infighting should be ending soon. Unfortunate, considering I picked Michael and your's side. But what can I do, I'm old and past my prime."

"They... didn't make everything? Themselves? It's all a lie? What..."

"Stunned? You should be. Now, don't get me wrong, they have done stuff on their own: later iterations of the S-Phone, improvements to HAP, that sort of stuff. But all the 'credit' goes to them when it should have been a team. If there is one pervasive problem with both of them, it is arrogance." She sighed, "Anyways, we can't spend all morning talking about my memories or Tayi's problems. What do you need?"

Wishing for the conversation to go on, but the woman shutting him down with a relatively stern glare, he gave up. Scratching his chin, growing stubble starting to appear, he spoke, "I... I actually don't know what they are called. Pretty much like in-ear headphones, white, something about nanomachines?"

"Ahhh... so you were the lab rat. I'm surprised Aayan gave them away, honestly. Could've blown your head off." She laughed at Mark's concerned expression, "I'm kidding. You were still a lab rat, but they weren't dangerous. We only have two prototypes I can give left, so please don't break it. Let me know if there are any issues. Oh, and they're called WIEs."

"...WIEs. Who, erm... came up with that?"

She chuckled, "That would be me. It stands for World-Wide In-Ear Communication Device. Now, are you telling me you would rather the name be WIECDs?"

She rummaged through pieces of paper with designs imprinted onto them as he frowned. She found them a moment later, enclosed in a white metal box, "I thought not. WIE isn't great, but it's a prototype. I'm sure we'll find a more marketable name eventually." She handed him one of the device pairs from the box, "Don't lose it, don't break it, or I'll fine you their creation costs."

He put them in, the microscopic machines forming the devices in his ears, "Thanks. I appreciate it. I'll make sure not to lose or break the WIEs. Just for you."

"Just for me? How romantic." She chuckled as he turned to leave, "Mark. A piece of advice before you go."

Turning back with a scrunched brow and raised eyebrow, she continued, "I made my bet on you, and I'm keeping it. Not Michael, you, Mark. If I were in your position, I'd go all in. Forget the public, social media and politics, be your own entity. Eneph founded Tayi on similar principles; freedom. Morally grey, yes, but it worked. We sold weapons to everyone and anyone; made connections to the highest powers; and the deepest ones. You are an enigma, a being that cannot be stopped. A force of nature. Use it. The world feared Tayi in its heyday; now it fears you; make sure they don't forget it."

Instead of removing himself, he narrowed his eyes, "You know, everyone seems so keen to advise me. Yet, that is what got me into this position. I wanted to be a hero. Someone people respected, not feared. And now look at me! I dread what my friends think; I dread what the world thinks."

She shook her head at him, disappointed, "Do not be blind, Mark. Everyone feared you, anyway. You are coping. Heroism is dead. Has been since the Occupation and civil wars prior to it. How are you going to bring it back? How will you be a hero when America is conquering the world? Are you going to annihilate them? Are you going to annihilate their allies? France? Russia? Any nations who support their goals?"

"No, wha-"

"Listen, Mark, and listen well. You might not want to hear this, but you need to. You want to change the world, but you are ruining the one chance you have at it. This... One Nation Movement was likely started by America. A plan in the making for decades, far more complex and beyond our scope than we can imagine. You won't just be fighting the US or the Invincibles but entire societies hell-bent on uniting themselves. Are you going to ally yourself with their enemies? Aaban? The nation and religion which thinks you're a demon? Or how about Asia or China? Used as a tool like anyone else. Do not be naive, Mark; you're a politics student. I expected better. Don't go against the current. Change its course."

"She isn't wrong, Mark." HAP interjected in his ears, speaking through the device, "You should leave; ponder her words. Bicker isn't someone you want to offend. She may not look it, but thousands lay dead because of her."

'Even HAP's starting...' He complained in his thoughts.

Giving the woman a sharpened gaze, he turned and entered the corridor before heading outside. The rain had stopped as tiny flakes of snow trickled down from above. He stared at them, catching some with his hands.

"I thought you would be in the lounge." Sasha inputted from the door he had exited moments earlier, "You spend too much time watching the news. I thought ya were getting better by seein your friends every Sunday, but ya still do the same thing."

He rubbed his stubble, the growing beard reminding him of his dad, "Old habits die hard. A routine I got into during college; a great place to gather knowledge on current affairs." Mark paused, "Why are you here, Sash? Come to advise me as well?"

Carefully stepping down the steps, wary of ice as she stood beside him in plain clothing, "Advice? So that's why you are grumpy. Fortunately, I have no advice to give. Am probably the weakest link in the group. My only advantage is with crime lords and cartels. Anything I say would be pretty useless. I'm more of a tool."

He looked at her before turning back, catching a snowflake, "I wouldn't say you are the weakest link. Honestly, besides Barak, you're the one I'm closest with. You're the only one who actually talks to me often. I guess... I understand how it feels. To be a tool."

She chuckled, "If I'm not the weakest, who is? Heh, whatever. My opinion, it's just how the world is. Everyone has their uses, no matter how big or small, so we get used as tools by someone with greater uses. Even those with great power get used."

Mark didn't answer; a minute passed as they stared at the snow and dark sky, "If you had powers, Sash. Mine or something different... would you have done the same? What would you have done?

She turned to him, "Give me your hand, Mark."

He looked at her, confused, before complying, her hands covering his, "Does it matter what I would have done? Don't regret something that would be hard for anyone in your position. You made the choices you thought were right. Whether they were, doesn't matter. That is the freedom we are given as human beings. I said I wouldn't advise ya, but I don't think much of what you did was 'wrong'. The outcomes... just, didn't go as planned. If you go on a rollercoaster, and it breaks down, killing someone you care about, was that the wrong decision? To go? No. The outcome just didn't go as planned."

He laughed, "How morbid. You truly have a way with words, Sash. Are all French people like this?"

She laughed back, "No, no. I guess... that's just me." She chuckled at her thoughts as she looked into his eyes, "Ya wanted to know what I would do, yeah? Well honestly, I'd probably be robbing banks, hiring boy toys for my own little harem and being a downright deviant. So, in my view, I'm glad it went to you. I would... waste away."

"Well... that was... erm... interesting. I'm also glad it didn't go to you, no offence. I kinda dread to think what you would have done besides that."

She let go of his hand, putting her own through her hair, removing the snow, "Well, I would not be a hero, let's just say that. Anyways, now ya seem a little less grumpy; I'm going to go in; I can't seem to tolerate the cold as ya do. Do ya even feel heat and chill?"

Mark winced before masking it, Sasha noticing but saying nothing, "I don't feel anything anymore. Not even the snow. I don't have anything." He chuckled to brighten himself, "I wonder what the sun would feel like? Or space?"

"I mean, ya could always go up and see. No way ya can't survive in space; that'd be super lame." She patted his shoulder, "Seriously, I'm gonna head inside; it's freezin. I will say, though, Mark. No matter what the rest do, I'll be by your side. I truly believe you are a bright future in this dark world. Something to hold onto in the coming storm. Oh, and one last thing... get a shower. You stink of death."

"Heh, thanks, Sash. I feel better now, thank you." She smiled before strolling inside, slightly shivering.

Mark was silent for a moment before quietly whispering, "I think it's time we had a conversation, HAP."