Esper Chapter 17: Brewing Storm

Part 1

“Alright everyone, let’s put together the information we’ve got!” Tobias Bennet presented an evidence-rich whiteboard to a room of police officers. “Over the course of the last month, all hell has broken loose in Trenton. Two days ago, Maddison Falls hotel was ‘bombed’, and yes, I’m using every air quote implied. Yesterday, the theater house at the intersection of Washington and Hugh went up in flames, and at the same time, several ‘abandoned’ buildings south of it went boom! What do all of those have in common?” An officer closer to the rear of the room raised her hand.

“The 365!” Tobias cheered at that answer!

“Good job, rookie! Let’s not forget this scumbag ‘Noah’, who’s been on our radar since last year.” Tobias used a ruler to point toward a police sketch. The details were fuzzy about his appearance, with arrows pointing out his almost unbelievable assumed appearance, being that of a man with more tattoo’s than visible skin. “After we busted Rocks and Toro, Noah moved in and took their spots. If our leads are on point, he frequented those ‘abandoned’ buildings. Now, you may have caught my implied air quotes again when I mentioned those being abandoned, well they were drug labs. The DEA said it was one of the biggest inner city distribution spots they’d seen in two decades. Sadly, we also came across five dead bodies and seven people, badly injured. Good news, they were all 365 scumbags, and now we’ve got a lot of people to question…” Suddenly the door to his side cracked open and his partner Raquel Childs crept in. “…Uh…back to my point!” Raquel mouthed out an apology as she slid into a seat. “We came across Juan Sanchez and his gaudy pink dragster at the site, totaled of course.”

“Sanchez was the top suspect in the kidnapping of Wilhelmina Trask, right?” Raquel spoke, raising her hand.

“Yes…and I bet you know where I’m going with this, Childs!” Crunching resounded from the old detective’s spine while offering Raquel the stage. She obliged taking over from the clearly exhausted Tobias.

“I read your messages, I’m up to date. Don’t worry.” The younger cop whispered to her partner, receiving a confident thumbs-up in return. “Wilhelmina Trask was kidnapped and escaped yesterday. Via witness accounts, there’s little doubt the kidnapper was Juan Sanchez, who currently is laying in the coroner’s room being examined. Sanchez was a known member of the 365, and the online vigilante group Beset’s sword are accusing the 365 of being at the heart of the recent string of kidnappings. Just outside of Trenton, in the neighboring township, Warren Prince’s body was found, and we have a witness that stated Beset’s sword was seen fleeing the scene. We can only assume that he…was a member or connected to the 365 in some way.” A massive hush fell over the room. “Now, we all know the Prince family. Big benefactor for the community, but their boy was a known burnout. Wish he didn’t have to go out like that, but catching the people who offed him is the best thing we can do for the family! These Beset’s sword kids are a problem, but so are the 365; they’re dragging our city into chaos! We’re not letting that fly, are we?!”

“No!” All the cops shouted!

“You’re damn straight! Some of our own have been getting caught in the crossfire! Paulie will live, but… Kevin and Niles…we’ll work for our brothers and find out who killed them!” Another rousing of the troops, though Raquel’s mind was elsewhere. “We’re going to trace all this back to its source! Find out who’s running this mess and save our city!”

With all the troops riled up, Raquel and Tobias withdrew to the breakroom. Tension eased and Tobias was finally able to ask what’d been on his mind. “So…late? That’s new for the honor roll student.”

“Lord…” A light jab from Tobias rolled off Raquel’s back.

“It’s just, you’re normally the first person here and rarely the first to leave. Yesterday, I could hardly get in contact with you.”

“Yeah, sorry. Needed to grab some stuff from my parent’s place.”

“Oh. How’s the doc doing?”

“Good! Dad has plenty of work on his plate now.” Just as Raquel pulled a cup of self-made coffee to her lips, she spied a figure entering the room. “Chief, morning!”

“Childs, Bennett.” With a moustache grayer than ash, and head balder than an eagle, an old black officer entered the room with his dark-brown suit disheveled, and tie undone. “Is that coffee fresh?” He asked eagerly.

“Yup! Raquel just brewed it. You look like you need some!” Tobias got up, stretching his back, and poured some for the chief. “Here you go! While I’m up, I’ll grab myself a nice ice cream sandwich from the fridge!”

“Really? It’s not even noon.” Unimpeded by the chastising, her partner’s sweet tooth was far too powerful. “Anyway, chief, you ok?”

“Been busy the last few days.”

“Makes sense. You probably have had lots of papers come across your desk with everything going on.” Tobias found his longed-for confection. Giddy to take a bite, he returned to the breakroom table with Raquel.

“You know we’re doing everything we can to wrap up these cases.” Concern plaguing her face, Raquel finished her coffee, trying to ease the grip on her mug.

“I know, I know. If there’s anyone I trust getting whoever is at the root of all this, it’d be my most trusted duo.”

“Whoa, such praise! That mean a pay raise is in our future?”
“Tobias!”

“Hahaha! Maybe, if you catch these guys, that is.”

“Actually, I do have one question, chief. What was up with that Pontz guy? He was an oddball, and I haven’t really seen him around much.”

“…” Raquel remained silent, simply filling another cup of coffee for herself.

“Well, we were told that he’d be investigating something with the department, but that was about it. Government reps came by one day, looked some stuff over, and then told us Pontz and his people would be investigating us, that’s it.”

“People? There are more of him? Shit, that’s unfortunate. Hope they are a bunch of upstanding citizens, and not whatever Pontz is.”

“…Let’s get out there, alright Tobias? We’ll check in again later, chief.”

“Right! Make sure to do so.”

“Hey Childs, hold up! I gotta’ finish my ice cream!”

Part 2

[Everything is taken care of.] The text was read on arrival. [Do I have to come in today? I want to stay home.]

[It’s the weekend, Amala.] Vernon Marino replied. Lacking sleep, suffering aches and pains, plus mental exhaustion, the day of the week slipped Amala Singh’s mind. [I’m heading into the city regardless, since I have to scope out the rec center. Thanks to Dorian, I didn’t get a chance yesterday.] The messages droned on…

Amala’s phone buzzed, and she quickly scrolled away from Vernon’s prattling with enthusiasm to check the notification! Disappointment set in when the readout displayed ‘Lidia, therapist’, instead of a certain misanthropic quill haired computer technician. She fumed, kicking her feet on the bed she haphazardly laid off the side of, draped down onto the floor lazily. The minute Amala answered the phone, Lidia spoke. “Amala, no need to give me your usual silent until spoken to routine.”

“…OK.” Again, silently fuming.

“You missed our session last night. I’d like to assume that’s because you were busy with work, correct?”

“…Yes.” Amala looked down, or more precisely, up, at the wrinkled, soot laden clothes she’d not changed out of the day prior.

“Fair enough. Having spoken with an overly ambitious, and pushy young man, from your place of business, I would also assume you’d have been tired.” Amala ignored that in favor of fussing with her neck wound. Knowing how lacking her medicine cabinet was, and having no medical knowledge at all, she’d left the blood drenched wrapping in place as she slept.

“Uh…do you…” Amala considered for a second if asking her therapist to replace it was the right move.

“Do I…? You can ask me anything. Remember, it all stays between us.”

Despite Lidia’s reassuring and warm voice, Amala’s resolve won out. (Don’t ask for help! Handle this, just like with my powers, like an adult!) She steeled herself as best she could. “Nothing.”

“I won’t pry. Call me anytime, I’m always available.” Lidia ended the call, so finally, Amala gathered the energy to get up off the floor after a night of uncomfortable rest. Tired, dirty, and injured, she stripped away her dirty clothes and prepared to hop into the shower until her eye caught the mirror. Her silky black locks remained twisted up like a beehive, done so by Katie Vang. Delusional it was, she imagined the red haired bully laughing at her, mocking that she couldn’t undo the tangled mess herself! Avoiding a strop, Amala placed her phone on the counter, with determination to at least fix her own hair alone! She washed her face, then struggled with her normally manageable hair. Strands thoroughly interwove and were knotted in place, so the exasperated woman had to trace them in and out of the spiraling mess!

(…Maybe I should just cut it all off.) Just a passing thought, Amala’s phone buzzed again! Quickly and gleefully, her head shot out of the shower, spying a message from her mother pop up on the phone screen. Any thought of a haircut or cheerfulness were quashed immediately. (Mom…)

Successfully relieving the tension, Amala’s hair washed down her shoulders and back. She finished washing up, then gathered her clothes and tossed them, sans purple hoodie, into a trash bag. After taking the rubbish to the door, she began pawing through the unopened packages bordering the front. Each was addressed from Karthika Singh, all having notes attached, which Amala hastily studied. One guided her to a pair of cinnamon-colored trousers and cream top; the unenthused young lady grabbed the clothes and lackadaisically pulled up a set of underwear from among the bags too. On her way past the mirror again, seeing her disheveled hair, noticeably bruised shoulder, and bloody neck wrapping, Amala stopped to begrudgingly brush her hair and teeth. Slackly doing her routine wasn’t an option. Meticulous as always, she spent nearly twenty full minutes grooming her silky locks specifically, then moved back to her pile of packages, once again, studying the same note. It instructed her to wear a raspberry turtleneck, which was included, for colder days. With her outfit together, Amala grabbed a pair of raspberry-colored pumps and her bag ready to depart her apartment, halting once she remembered…

(Oh right…weekend. That means I won’t be seeing him…) She looked out the window, seeing a sunny sky. (What should I do for the day?) Without thinking, her hand met the squishy, damp bandage beneath her turtle neck. (…I don’t care if she knows how to do it. I’m never letting her touch me again!) If she had her way, the rough and barbarous waitress would never be allowed to dress her wounds or even touch her!

It dawned on Amala, she’d never read the message from her mother. [I see that the little girl show you like has an event in your town. You are not going there, right?? You are too old to go there anymore! Your father does not approve that you like that show. He is worried about you. What are you doing with your time? Are you making friends? Are you dating?] Hollow, like casting a stone down an empty hall, the words rattled off into nothingness in Amala’s heart.

“…A Digital idol show? I’m going to watch it!” Her plans for the day were made, and without another thought, off she went!

Part 3

Craving solace from the events of the day before, rabid interviewers, and his mother’s smothering love, Harper Wolf stowed away in a partially renovated apartment on the outskirts of Trenton. As suggested by his friends, Levity ‘Lefty’ York, and Peter ‘Pete’ Forman, the location was a perfect bunker. The half-painted baby blue and patchy white sheetrock walls, parts of the beige carpet torn up, and several countertops with power tools haphazardly strewn about, gave Harper an oddly at-home feeling inside the under-construction property.

Harper leaned over the ledge on the veranda, being able to see far out across the city. In the distance, he could just barely make out the theater house, or what was left. Blackened wood and scorched pillars peaked over building tops, as a helicopter floated overhead trying to get a better view. Life seemed unreal to him already at that point, but he wasn’t sure how long his own mind would be able to continue grasping reality.

Brimming with energy, Lefty skipped out onto the landing, chased by the bitter smell of weed. “Hey Mr. Hero, want a hit?” With a lit blunt in hand, she playfully rubbed it on the cheek of her chubby friend.

“Quit it! Pete, you sure your dad won’t notice us smoking here?” Calling to his other friend lazing about on a lone, sheetless mattress in the middle of the floor.

“Huh…? Yeah…?” Already far gone himself, Pete was at the edge of lucidity. “Dad’s always…uh…” The young man muttered off, eyes wandering across the popcorn ceiling. “Harper!” He shouted randomly.

“Chill out, dude.” Lefty jeered.

“Over here, Pete.”

“Oh, right…you are.” Pete calmed down with that confirmation, laying back onto the mattress and allowing his already intoxicated mind to wander about.

“Alright, so ya’ gotta’ tell us, how’d ya’ find Wilhelmina?” Lefty discarded her puffy black jacket, sweating under the sunlight.

“Ugh…” Harper groaned, snatching the blunt from Lefty. “Let’s skip that.”

“Vergil!” Pete once again shouted!

“Ain’t here, Pete. Where is Vergil? Haven’t heard from 'em since yesterday. Didn’t y’all run off when ya’ heard about the kidnappin’? Actually, how didja’ hear about the kidnappin’? You were like, first on the scene!”

“…Uh…” Giving into the intrusive thoughts… “What if…I told you I can read minds?”

“Mama Lefty~!” Once more, in a sultry tone, Pete called!

“Motherfucker, stop that!” Lefty stormed over to the mattress, throwing up one side and rolling her inebriated friend onto the floor! “Geez… so what were ya’ sayin’? Ya’ got telepathy now?”

“Yeah, mind reading.”

“…Dude…if you can read minds, read mine…!” Speaking into the paint chip laden carpet, Pete didn’t bother to stand up.

“Go on, it’d be like listening to an empty seashell!”

“Well…” That searing pain was unlike anything he’d felt before, but what gave Harper pause was unexpected guilt. Seeing that little girl fall into a seizure from rooting through her mind froze the would-be telepath. “Probably not right now…” An unexplainable feeling, separate from guilt, haunted Harper and he couldn’t shake it.

“O…kay…” Pete rolled and stood up off the ground! “I’m hungry…” Shambling toward the door, both friends waved as he exited the apartment with the mission of retrieving snacks.

“So, Vergil?”

“No idea. Verg is…” Even a day later, that soft warm smile on the face of Vergil’s mother was grafted deep in Harper’s memory, as if he’d lived it firsthand. “He didn’t say anything when I texted him. We got separated and, you know, I just came across Wilhelmina.”

“Using your telepathy?” Lefty pulled Harper’s own hand to her mouth and took long drag of the still lit blunt. She blew a large cloud of smoke while skipping playfully back inside, collapsing onto the mattress with exaggerated enthusiasm! “Life is…weird right now.”

“Yeah, really sucks.”

“For real though! Kinda’ scared to walk the streets now with the 365 and Beset’s sword beefing. Ya’ hear they killed Warren, and burned down that theater house?! Dude…I’m scared, are you scared?”

Witnessing an officer’s body being torn asunder seemed so unrealistic at the time, it barely registered in Harper’s psyche. Seeing Warren’s throat pierced only left him with guilt. Accidentl death around didn’t chill Harper with fear; no, that was reserved for Amala. That cursory scan of her mind, left those words echoing in his. “…More so than you could ever guess.” He knew she could – would kill if need be; Amala was a cold-blooded murderer. Even if he didn’t see it, Harper knew the gangster in the theater house had succumbed to Amala’s ruthless flames.

Loud popping erupted from somewhere nearby, followed by screaming outside! “Hmm? What was…that?” Lefty said, finally feeling the effects of smoking. Her eyes fluttered and words began to slur.

“Fireworks, probably.” Despite seeming relaxed, Harper was shaken from the sound he assumed was actually gunfire! Without thinking, he placed his hand in his pocket to feel a building heat. (My phone, seriously? Am I still getting messages from interviewers?!) Several messages filled his inbox with more incoming! He quickly moved delete them and set up a filter, but with a single mistap of his thumb, Harper answered a phone call from his father, Calvin Wolf. (Shit!)

“Harper? Hello?” His father’s voice usually carried a soothing air, however, any thought of Calvin or, his family, were poisoned by those vile accusations! Making eye contact with his own father was difficult, but more than anything was knowing how Amala felt. With all of her heart, she believed those accusations were true, and Harper had known that she’d felt that way for months! Where he worked, when he worked, his name, his looks, Amala remembered it all, and Harper didn’t want to confront the possibility that… “Harper, are you there?”

“…Yeah. I’m here, Dad. What’s going on?”

“Your mother wanted to know where you were. I said you were with your friends, trying to get away from the press.” True enough. “When will you be back?”

“…like 6, just tell Mom, 6.” More screaming continued from outside worrying Harper more.

“Of course. Make sure to be careful, alright. I love you, son.”

“…” Mired in emotion, Harper struggled to respond. “I love you too…Dad.” He hung up the phone and took the longest hit of his life. (Does he not care? Should I…read his mind?) That line of thought was cut short! Pete burst in through the door, sobered up and wheezing, sweat dripping down his red exasperated face! “Pete, you good?!”

Lefty and Harper both shot up to meet their distressed friend, as he slammed the door, back pressed firmly against it! “F-Fuck man…” With his heart beating so loudly Harper could’ve sworn he heard it, Pete’s face became awash with tears! “Someone…s-some guy like our age got fucking shot in the back of the head! Right out on the street! He was wearing a-a beige hoodie – beige and black…fucking shit…man.” Pete wept, curling up in the fetal position as Lefty attempted to console him.

Fear, Harper finally found another one. Fear of what the world around him was becoming.

Part 4

Down at Captain Louie’s Ale House, Katie Vang sat checking her wristwatch, and intentionally avoiding her phone on the opposite side of the table. Messages barraged the device sending it into a buzzing fit, having not ended since the incident! Checking any of them would’ve been a waste of effort in the redhead’s mind. (Matthew, it could only be about him…) She leaned back, contemplating her position in life. Then, with a deep breath, she exhaled, relieving the tension built up in her chest. (I really dodged a bullet there, huh?) Another waitress approached, placing a cup of water in front of her co-worker.

“Katie, is everything alright?” The young woman asked.

“Yeah, all good. Thanks, Jackie.”

“You said you were meeting someone here, right? Why here on your day off?”

“Well…” In actuality, Katie wanted to meet that certain person in a populated area, and in a place she knew well in case a quick escape was necessary. “First dates, you always want to be careful.” She giggled. The waitress walked back over to the bar, chatting with the owner who gave Katie a thumbs up. (Buzz off, asshole. You’re just happy that you got Jackie in that short skirt today, you creep.) She replied with a thumbs up as well!

A large body walked down the street, standing out among the sparse crowd. Shaped like an upside down mountain, just entering the restaurant intimidated both the other waitress and the owner, though he was all smiles. He spied Katie, pulled off his baseball cap and sunglasses, flashing that wide grin while approaching the table. “This seat taken, pretty lady?” With a hearty laugh, Baxter joined the cautious woman. “So, you think through my offer?”

“I’ve been thinking it over…”

“Well, then how about I start by…” Katie lifted her hand and paused the enthusiastic man.

“Slow down for a second. I’m not totally on board yet.”

“Fair enough.” He leaned back, both the chair and his fitted leather jacket creaking under the stress of his muscular back.

“I want to ask some stuff. You answer me truthfully, ok? You better back up everything, I mean it…or else.”

“Or else?”

“You’ll see.” The threat was made knowing full well that the owner kept a gun behind the counter.

“Hmm…is the ‘or else’ the gun the old fat guy is clutching behind the counter?”

“Wha?!” Baxter winked, knowing he’d thrown the young woman for a loop. “…Yes, then. You know what I mean.”

“OK, shoot. Not with the gun though, haha!”

“…Your name, what is it?”

“Baxter is my real name.”

“Whole name!”

“…Baxter Freeman. Here, check my ID.” He opened his wallet and presented Katie with an ID. It read as Baxter said, also show his age, being 15 years older than her! It didn’t surprise her much by the wrinkles appearing on his weathered face, though his physique spoke otherwise.

“Well, Baxter, you mentioned the job being government; tell me what part of the government.”

“…Can’t…” Katie moved to get up from the table! “Wait, wait! I can’t yet. You see, I’m kind of here without permission. As much as I want to bring you in, my boss is a bit secretive…and eccentric.”

Slowly, Katie sat back down. “Didn’t you say we were being monitored? I assume that means all the survivors of the Newtonville Rock incident, right?” He nodded to confirm. “Then you know all about our…” Katie hesitated, but swallowed her indecision. “Powers…?”

“Sort of. We’re government, that much is true, but we aren’t exactly on the level of the FBI or CIA. We’re small, underfunded.”

“This business card…?” Katie held up the one she was presented with before.

“The boss gave it to me. Not sure why someone so weird and guarded would even have something like that, but whatever. Sentimental, maybe.”

“…” Katie looked the weathered and waxy card over again. The graphics were faded, and upon closer inspection, two faded names that she couldn’t make out were printed on the bottom. “…How much about us do you know. Tell me everything.” Her suspicion was furthered, but more so, her confusion was bolstered.

“What we know is that all of you have these abilities due to an experiment on our side.”

“…Why not come out and tell us all this?”

“How many people in the United States want to have the government experimenting on them without their consent? How many people do you think would be okay with a bunch of innocent teens becoming casualties of those experiments? Boss wants to observe, but not enough funding, so people like me were hired on; bad, good, didn’t matter. As long as they follow orders and get results.”

“Aren’t you breaking their trust?”

“Bah! I’m sure whatever I’m doing is being monitored. My car out there, phone, and wallet, I got all of it from the boss. I’m trusted because…I have nothing to lose, and no reason to lie.” Baxter brought up his phone and passed it over to Katie. An article headline read: ‘Ex-army and MMA fighter Baxter Freeman charged with several cases of assault and battery’. “Want to know about that?”

Silently thinking, Katie met eyes with the older man. “…Was it for a good reason?”

“Yup!”

“…Fine.” His eyes didn’t lie, at least; and Katie believed in her ability to spot a liar. The images were of Baxter’s mugshot, likely from years prior, as the man in the pictures looked significantly younger. “What’s the goal of this…project?”

“Like the card says! Bringing the future forward! The tall weirdo in charge said something about people being at an evolutionary standstill and us pushing them to evolve, or whatever.”

“By giving us powers?” Katie found Baxter referring to anyone else a ‘The tall weirdo’ ironic, considering that he easily stood taller than Vernon, though she didn’t press the issue.

“What can I say? I’m the muscle, not paid to think.” He shrugged.

Katie was still confused, still cautious, and still untrusting of Baxter. “One last question.”

“OK.”

“You want me to work with you, but since your boss isn’t up for it, what do I even do?”

“Simple, report to me everything and anything that happens with your little group.”

“I don’t know…”

“Nicolaus Thompson, Amala Singh, Vernon Marino, Vergil Trask, Harper Wolf, and you too Katie Vang; we’re hoping eventually to have you all on our side, since we’re on the right side.” Baxter stood up from his seat just as the other waitress approached.

“Uh, sir you didn’t order anything.” She said, cowering before the man who was much larger when seen up close.

“Not too hungry, sweetheart. Pretty lady, all I need from you, is for you to think that over.” Baxter bid farewell with a relaxed wave and walked out of the door.

“Weird guy. You alright, Katie?”

“…Yeah.” She wasn’t.

End of Chapter 17