Chapter 9: Power Struggle

Julie awakened to an excruciating headache. Her vision was blurry and it was very hard to think. [Had she been hit on the head?] She tried to recall the signs for brain injury, and failed. Across the room she could see the two fuzzy shapes were coming in to focus, and the sounds were starting to resolve themselves into voices. It was Difficult to understand what they were saying at first but as the fog cleared from Julie’s mind she recognized the men were speaking German. She put her head back down and listened, pretending to have passed back out. Pretending required little acting as consciousness was not easy to maintain. To help the illusion along she did not try to stop drooling, which she only realized she was doing. Lowering her head she saw, and smelled quite a lot of blood. She remembered that scalp wounds do bleed profusely, and that caused her some concern.

The men were discussing how to deal with their prisoners. Julie tried to stay awake and focused while the claws of unconsciousness grasped for her. As she did in any emergency, her first effort was for professional detachment. Panic was setting in and she could feel the effect of it taking hold. She remembered a warning about how it would be bad for her to loose control of ... something. The discussion was about how much of a drug to administer to Terry. But the one man sounded like Terry ... Realization finally dawned on her that this man sounded (and looked) like Terry because he was also made from the same DNA that was developed by Das Ubermench. There could potentially be an army of these clones walking around! Stifling panic with all of her might she knew that any plan she made would start with gathering intelligence. (Had Terry taught her that?) Concern for Terry threatened to destroy her self control again as the one that sounded like Terry (only much angrier) began to argue for his idea against people who spoke to him respectfully but were trying to dissuade him from his course of action. The others in the room were calling the clone ‘Mein Führer‘ which simply meant ‘my leader’ but that was a title that German speaking people avoided –unless they were Nazis. As Julie listened she pieced together that that the ‘Leader’ wanted to try to gain entry to the RMF headquarters to try to steal the RM5 armor. From what she heard of their arguments they had interrogated Terry about the building’s security precautions before drugging him for at lest the second time. Terry had been trained by the Marines to resist enhanced interrogation techniques as she remembered form his personnel file, and she hoped desperately that the training was adequate to protect the RMF. She again started to remember that there was something wrong with desperation. Julie recalled Terry’s concern for her possibility to have another emergence with her meta abilities. Not that right now she had full use of her mental faculties anyway, the hit on the head and blood loss was making he feel groggy and dim-witted regardless of whatever Mystic was worried about. She felt relief when she realized Mystic was still at the RMF. Certainly Mystic would detect an impostor at a mere glance. Perhaps whatever Terry had told them, he had done so in knowledge of this fact. She began to feel the beginning of her terror abating. Surely Mystic would see through the ruse and effect an immediate rescue.

Mystic felt ridiculous. Here she was waiting for a man who was clearly very seriously attracted to another woman, dressed in this silly outfit. She had gone too far. Of course Terry was intrigued by her overtures, to say the least, but she knew he was certain that Julie Von Werner was the woman who would decide his future love life. There was a chance, however small that Terry and Julie would decide to keep their relationship a professional one. She knew she was only fooling herself. For the hundredth time since liberating that scepter from the museum she resolved to get her clothes back on and escape with what little dignity she had left. “But you’re a lonely old woman” she said to herself. She knew she was really not that old, she saw herself through more men’s eyes than Terry’s after all and most of them still liked what they saw very much. What she was here for was not just the thrill of his attention, but that he had simultaneously seen her as a goddess and a woman. An equal, and an object of worship. He was a good, solid, honorable man, with a touch of mischievousness. He got her without an explanation. She wanted to be adored, and challenged. She wanted a man who wold let her feet dangle above a long drop, but hold on firmly. Anne had spent many years listening to people make excuses to themselves, and she needed no powers or degrees now to know she was tightly in the grip of wishful thinking. She once again resolved to get dressed and go home. All the way home to New York. It was reprehensible that a woman in her mid forties could talk herself into acting like a teenager over a man ... And then she heard the door unlocking. She looked again over to the duffel bag in which she had brought the scepter (and the dress) into the building. Should she have left the handcuffs at home? She had definitely gone too far.

Hank looked at the tablet again and tried to understand what was written on it. He understood the individual symbols, but the whole of the diagram eluded him entirely. He had written this himself. Just an hour ago. How could something so plain to him an hour ago look like martian hieroglyphics to him now? He looked over the pathways again, but started to feel overwhelmed after just a few steps. Hank put the tablet down and went over to the wall. “Meg has anyone changed this design but me?”

The computer replied in a feminine voice “No Hank, no one has access to that document except you, and no links or queries have ever been submitted for it.”

Meg could lie she was based on a computer that tried to end humanity after-all. Hank didn’t think this was the case but it would be good to get a second opinion. That’s it! A second opinion. Maybe he needed a doctor. Meg, is there something wrong with my brain?

After another imperceptibly short delay, Meg replied. “I need more data Hank, should I call Herbie?”

“Yes, I think so Meg, I may be having a stroke.”

“Herbie and the Emergency team are on the way, Hank.” “in the mean time let me walk you through some life saving steps.” “Face the display panel and smile.”

After having been instructed to raise both arms and answer a battery of questions, Hank’s cousin Herbie arrived with the Emergency Response Team. They duplicated all of the tests and questions, and a good going over with what Terry had renamed the ‘Salt Shaker,’ the ERT had given him a clean bill of Health.

“To tell you the truth, I’m been feeling a little overwhelmed myself” Herbie admitted. Everyone’s talking about getting a tingly feeling, and then, feeling strange.”

Regret rolled over Mystic like a tsunami as soon as the door opened. Terry looked more shocked and surprised than she had expected. This was such a stupid idea. As she fumbled for an explanation for herself he looked like he wanted nothing more than to take off at a dead run. “Wait,” she pleaded, “this was stupid I, know, but I...” She had no way to excuse herself which would not sound as pathetic as she deserved. Terry was a forgiving sort, and she had convinced herself beforehand that his understanding nature would shield her from the childishness of her actions. Seeing him now in the doorway, she mostly felt sorry for him that she had put him in so awkward a situation. “I’m sorry,” It was the only true thing she could say right now. Terry’s expression changed to a very suspicious one now. He was looking at her as if he didn’t know her at all, for which she could not blame him. He paused at the door, frozen in indecision. “Of all the times it would come in handy to read your mind,” She waved toward the scepter she had placed prominently on a nearby table. Terry looked in the direction she had indicated but seemed to skim right past the magical rod. Was he play acting? Of course he would know exactly what she was talking about, as well as noticing the out of place four foot gold-encrusted wooden scepter on the table. She thought to make the remark ‘Who are you, and what have you done with Terry?’ and froze at “Who...”