It wasn't in Alex's nature to help people. He had learnt that early on. He had first felt disgusted when he accidentally killed and consumed his first civilian, but that feeling had quickly faded- especially when the infected zones spread out. After that, he didn't really care what he slaughtered- Infected, civilians, soldiers. Soldiers and Infected where his enemies anyways, and the civilians- what the fuck had they been doing in the dangerous areas anyways?!
Alex didn't feel any compassion for most people. Especially stupid people. He tried to not consume innocents unless he didn't have another choice, but he usually didn't give a fuck about them dying any other way.
But when Dana told him to get his ass over to a train full of hostages, he did so because she told him to do so. He didn't care about them either way, but Dana wanted him to rescue them, so he did. He had still been a little lost as to how he was supposed to do this without revealing himself too much, though he was a little surprised to see the courier already at the scene. He had acted as a living third rail to supply the train with energy and move it out of the Reaper-infested territories.
Which did intrigue him. Already the night before, during their battle, his interest had peaked. Because logically, it was downright impossible to act as a live third rail or fire lightning through the air- there was a good reason electricity as weapon only appeared in water-dwelling animals. But that man down there not only stored and gave off electricity, but was also capable of conducting it easily.
His interest in those abilities rose quickly, though he was aware that until now, he hadn't been able to get a grasp on them. He had hunted down and consumed several of those Reaper 'conduits', yet he hadn't been able to develop teleportation (or, at the very least, an extremely fast movement from one point to another) or increased the power of his own shockwaves. He didn't know why, but apparently conduit abilities were uncharted territory and obviously impossible for Blacklight to copy.
It was frustrating- and still somewhat relieving. Because it meant that the nagging question at the back of his mind- whether he could gain electrokinetic powers- was answered. No. Simple as that- and that meant he didn't have the urge to consume the man for his powers.
Because that would be cold-blooded murder. Alex was not a saint, and certainly couldn't stand humanity as a whole- but he could still tell rights from wrongs and knew how to keep his cover. And killing people on a whim was morally wrong as well as way too obvious. He was aware that it was hypocrisy, especially coming from him- but if those people hadn't harmed him, hadn't harmed Dana or any others out of lesser reasons, then he would leave them alone. He targeted the scum of society, and those that used their power to control others- and he hadn't seen any of this in the courier.
And he had every right to.
But Alex wasn't going to go out on a whim and assume the guy was going to misuse his abilities in the future- he was only going to act once he actually did.
However, he also didn't want to let this Moya woman know about him. He had no idea where she was from, or who she reported to, or what she wanted. He would know if he got to her to consume her, but first he needed more information.
He didn't wanted to run blindly into another military base with too many eyes and ears. While it would be no great problem to him, it was too risky as it would draw too much attention to him.
Not that he already was deep in the shit because of this. The Reapers from yesterday- he really should have cleaned the mess up before anybody would have noticed. He usually did so, or at least tried to clean up whatever was too messy to be from the 'normal' violence- but the night before...
He had been terrified when he had heard the courier's voice. It was panic- he had contacted this Moya woman and was about to blurt out about his presence here, so Alex had to act to prevent them from knowing he was here. He had no desire to see Empire go up in flames like Manhattan had- he had no urge to face Blackwatch again.
And fear he always overrode with extreme aggressiveness. It had saved him before, and it worked better for him than trying to ask nicely. Alex Mercer wasn't somebody who would ask.
So he had outright assaulted the younger man, had coerced him into silence through violence. While socially not acceptable, he had long since realized that fear was an excellent way to make sure that what he wanted was done correctly. And it came to him more easily than anything else.
Dana wouldn't like it, but she had little saying in the matter. It was his choice, and he had long since made sure that they survived until now.
Of course it wasn't easy, usually it was his fault they were discovered- but if he kept low nobody was going to look into his direction. Which meant that he had to restrict himself to blunt force trauma and human weapons to avoid further suspicion.
But that was possible- there were more than enough Reapers around he could take out of the equation easily to gain what he needed.
Which put him here now, trailing after the train as it slowly wobbled its way along the tracks. It was preferably, as it gave him the freedom to not having to show himself, though he did stay around to make sure that nothing out of the ordinary happened. Protecting defenseless humans was always a pain in the ass and a main spot for things to go completely wrong, which forced him to pay closer attention to the Reapers, and especially to what they were doing.
When the emergency system didn't engage and stopped the train in its motion, the young man leapt off and headed for the underside of the track to switch the low voltage feeding box back on.
As he came back up, he was stopped by several Reapers- but he made short process with them. Without Alex interfering, he could watch how the man fought. There was a lot of improvisation in it- in close combat he did a form of street brawling, at range he fired lightning bolts. Surprisingly, he seemed to aim for the chest-and head region of his foes. Out of instinct maybe, or perhaps he targeted those areas for the greatest possible damage output. The very nature of lightning meant it was rather unreliable in taking down opponents, after all easily six out of seven lightning strike victims managed to walk off unscathed- though the courier managed to push these numbers up by focusing his power on the nervous or the cardiac system.
Alex's lips twitched when he remembered Cross and his stun baton. Cross too had targeted his chest, and since he had believed himself to be human, it had actually worked in stopping him in his tracks. Now it wasn't much of a nuisance anymore- he had reduced most of his internal organs, though he had kept his remaining Biomass in a muscular structure that was working in an approximate to human muscles- along with the annoying habit of cramping when under charge. Not that he needed it- he could easily shift them for pressure-working viral tissues working on chemical instead of electrical signals, but those didn't react as fast as muscles did.
The heat was more damaging to him though, and getting fried with a few thousand volts wasn't anywhere pleasant. Still, watching someone else get all the attention was quite interesting to watch.
And then he witnessed the man jump up to bodily shield the train from a RPG missile, watched how he was thrown through the air and hit the street two stories down with a smack, only to shoot back up and still continue to protect the hostages. Six men shooting assault rifles- high speed assault rifles- and the courier took them, despite his body being more or less shredded to bits during this. One bullet even slammed into his skull, dug into his brain- but the courier didn't even think of slowing down.
Only then he collapsed, but was still lucid enough to attach himself to the third rail, electrocuting himself- and healing himself while absorbing the energy.
And that was intriguing all on its own- while the healing was slower than his own, it was faster than a Hunter's- though it would mean the man was able to consume electricity to increase his regeneration. And this meant that they weren't as different as they appeared at first.
Alex could admire strength and willpower. Which was why he stepped in when he witnessed the single Reaper conduit approach the downed man. Before either man could assault the other, his Whipfist snatched the Reaper and dragged him back, where Alex slammed him into the roof to consume him, taking his rifle off him while at it.
He could see the tremor run down the courier's back when he finally revealed himself and their eyes met. Though, when Alex noticed and downed that Reaper trying to shoot the other man from behind, the courier realized what he was planning. He returned to his part of the mission, though the scowl on his face was plainly visible. Understandably, nobody would enjoy working with the very same guy who manhandled them. Alex followed after them, this time plainly visible.
He figured that the Reaper conduits and the courier couldn't be the only ones with powers around. If he was spotted, then the chances were good that they expected him to be one of them- as long he didn't shift into his default clothes and he didn't use his more incriminating powers.
So he was entertaining the many soldier personas he had, simply shooting whoever dared to step into the way of the train. There was a simple beauty about this, something mechanical and logical, something that was just plain easy. He could appreciate it, even though it was seriously lacking in hilarious blood baths or glorious explosions.
The train screeched as it came to a stuttering halt, and the courier jumped off it with an annoyed expression. Alex watched him drop to the floor, discharging lightning everywhere as he took out a few more enemies, then headed back after he, presumably, switched on the feeder box on the underside of the tracks.
He noticed the Reaper conduit too late, and was thrown flat on his back. Alex had already lined up his rifle to take the guy out, but the courier was faster. Managing to shake the guy off, he then latched onto him and...just killed him. Alex lowered the gun, watching in surprise. 'How did he do that?'
He had seen lightning arching between the two of them, but it wasn't like before when he zapped the other Reaper. No, this looked...more like it did when he drained an electrical source, actually.
Alex frowned when he realized what had happened. Humans were a source of electricity too- the synapses fired electrical charges all throughout the body. He watched the courier glance at him, before he climbed back on top of the train to resume the way. Would this be dangerous to him too?
Alex wasn't sure, most of the time he was imitating a human body complete with the central nervous system and synaptic connections, as they were much faster than a virus's chemical system of information. But it took time to switch between them, and as long he was using the former...he wasn't sure whether he would be vulnerable to this electrical drain.
He didn't want to find out, especially not if it would give Blackwatch a weapon against him.
A barricade made of cars came into view, though the younger man took care of it by using those shockwaves to remove them. Quite interesting, using a sort of electro-magnetic field to push away all matter to the front. Alex scanned the area for any more opponents.
But there were none, though a train stop full of civilians came into view. He scoffed and turned around, crushing the rifle to scrap metal before dropping it.
------
Alex was already halfway through the Neon, looking for things to do, when he felt a pull at the edge of his mind. He abruptly changed his trajectory, heading towards a tall building and rushing to the roof as his world dipped into dark red and brown tones with only him glowing unnaturally white.
"Mercer"
Heller. Alex frowned, glancing at the sun in the sky. It should be around noon, so a time the other should be in work, no? "Heller", he replied, letting his voice echo throughout the Hivemind they shared.
"I managed to figure some things out", the Evolved began.
"The guns?"
"And something about this woman"
Alex paused. "Begin with Jones."
Heller chuckled. "Well, there's that. I barely found anything at all."
"What?"
"You heard me. I did find birth certificates and everything up to six months ago. But after that. Zip. Nada."
Alex furrowed his brows. "Nothing?"
"Nope. As if she vanished."
The Blacklight Virus paused. Curiously... "She's here and she's the leader of that little occupation going on", he explained. "And yet there are no records of her?" His eyes narrowed. "Just what does this remind you of?"
Heller growled under his breath. "Sounds like Blackwatch. Too fucking much."
"Yeah." Alex snorted. "Though I haven't seen even a shred of black uniform here. There's what the people call a plague' going on, yet no Blackwatch." He inclined his head, glancing at the sky. "Don't you think that's weird?"
"Admittedly. Though Blackwatch's not the only specialized in Black Ops fuck."
"You assume it's one of the others? CIA, NSA, DARPA,...?"
"Or the girl scouts", Heller sounded amused. "Fuck knows what they're really doing."
"Focus", Alex grumbled. "Though I guess I was in the wrong about Jones. Thought she's just another face to hide behind."
Heller exhaled. "You gonna open your own brand of fuck on them?"
"Of course. You have a problem?"
"As a matter of fact, I do", the Evolved growled. "You're going to murder soldiers, Mercer. Marines. My brothers-in-arms."
Alex's lips peeled away from his teeth in a grin. "If you want to stop me, you are more than welcome to come over here and try, Heller."
"Fucking Bastard" Heller growled. Alex knew he had won- the Evolved was far from being as powerful and tough as the original Runner was. They both knew it, and Heller had no great desire to test his strength against a thing that was easily able to overpower and consume him.
"I thought as much." The Blacklight Virus snorted. "Don't worry. I'm not going to go on a massacre spree. I don't want any attention."
"You're still going to murder people."
"Yes. Yes I will. However, even you should know that there are always black sheep amongst them. Scum nobody is going to miss. I just have to find them."
"Fucking great" Heller swore under his breath.
"You didn't seem to have any problems when we cleared your name", Alex pointed out. "Again, don't you fucking worry- I'll just take out the bastards."
"For your sake I hope you will- because if I hear that you've murdered good men, I will not hesitate to shove my claws up your fucking ass."
"Hah." Alex snorted. "You are welcome to try."
Heller growled something under his breath, before his attention was elsewhere for a moment. "For fuck's sake, Deeks. Let me have my five minutes of crazy. Will ya?"
If Alex focused, he would be able to hear the other man's reply, but he chose not to. Heller snorted before turning his attention back to him. "Co-Worker", he explained shortly. "They think I'm a bit fucked up in the head, though until now they haven't done any intervention to get me to a shrink."
"If they find a psychologist who is willing to take on a guy who can grow claws and throw around tanks", Alex replied easily. "What about the guns, though?"
Heller exhaled. "There's more to say about them."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Was a bit of a bitch to check them out, though."
"Then spit it out."
"Gun you told me about was from a shipment to Empire", Heller explained, "For the soldiers to take care of the gangs over there."
Alex snorted. "Right. Because I've seen so many soldiers in here."
"Seriously?"
"Heller, as far this looks, the only people doing something to stop the gangs from taking over, are me and a bike courier, for God's sake."
Heller inhaled sharply. "Fuck. Looks like it's even worse than I thought."
"The guns?"
"Right. So, looks like they were ordered by a General Darren Bridges. Commanding General of the eighty-second Airborne Division, Fort Bragg, North Carolina. He's on TV sometimes, claims everything's going fine."
"Bridges, huh?" Alex's eyes narrowed. "That's the second time I hear of him. Looks like I know who just made it to the top of my shit-list."
"Yeah. Guess he had it coming then?"
"Absolutely."
Heller sighed. "Can't stop you, anyways."
"Where do they stash the weapons?" Alex inquired, looking around. "Because I took that one from the cold dead hands of a junkie shooting up the street."
"According to the data...place called Steel Harbor."
"Steel Harbor?" Alex perked up. "It's over in the Warren." He turned, glancing into the direction. "I'll head over there and check things out."
"Wait a moment" Heller muttered. "Huh. Can't be right. Database says the guns've been shipped over a week before the whole shit went down."
Alex stopped. "What?"
"A whole week." The Evolved was silent for a moment before he continued. "Report says that the violence in the Warren district escalated and needed martial law."
"Reports can kiss my ass. There was nothing out of the ordinary there."
"Still, somebody managed to grease enough hands, looks like."
Alex snorted. "I'll check this out."
"Yeah, do that, you fucker", Heller grumbled. "And don't fucking dare to contact me again when I'm on the job. Don't need to look like a mental case."
"As far I am concerned, you contacted me. Not the other way round."
"Thought you wanted the info as soon as possible."
"I did. And I am grateful you acted so quickly", Alex smirked as he noticed Heller flounder about for words. Gratitude wasn't something he was known for anyways. "But seriously- I am going to check things out."
"Means I can do my fucking job?"
"Yup"
"Fucking finally." Heller cut himself off, before picking up his voice. "Yes, G. I am done being crazy. Can we just go back to the case already?"
Alex cut the connection, his world blurring back into the natural colors. He didn't waste any more time as he leapt off the roof and soared across the sky, heading towards the Warren.
---------
He had been careful about who might have seen him, but just like in Manhattan, the people of Empire just never look up. Reaching the Steel Harbor was easy.
As he was crouched down on a roof overseeing the massive complex, he became acutely aware that the entire area was overrun by heavily armed thugs. Thugs who wore trash bags.
The Dustmen?
He made his way to the side of the building and easily dropped down, mindful to soar the last distance to avoid cratering. Once he did, he carefully made his way over to where the guys in the trash bags were moving around.
His eyes narrowed on a guy just around the corner. There was not a single guard nearby.
Perfect.
Alex moved closer, mindful to stay in the dark as he crept towards the man. Once he was close enough, he seized his face from behind to muffle every eventual noise, before he stabbed his flat hand into the man's ribs, killing him. As the man dropped back, Alex easily stepped to the front, taking his shape just as the man was dragged into him.
The Runner paused, frowning. He was right in his first assumption, these guys were Dustmen. He had heard of them before, but hadn't been over in the Warren long enough to consume one of them.
Unlike the Reapers, the Dustmen still had their free will. They used to be the homeless and criminals of the city, and were just a form of private army now, under the leadership of a man called Alden Tate. Alden had them take over the Warren, and build a massive tower. Already wondered what that thing was supposed to be. He mused, glancing at the massive structure jutting out of the central area of the district.
Alden also had powers, able to move things with his mind, so he was another conduit then?
Alex frowned and moved into the Steel Harbor, looking around. None of the other Dustmen paid him any attention, though he did insist on switching his disguise as soon he found a viable target.
The new guy didn't know much either, just that Alden had them take over the Steel Harbor four days after the Blast. Luckily, he'd been on the group that took over the area, giving Alex some more information.
They had found no opposition, and a container full of weapons and ammunition. There had been two more containers too, but those had been empty.
Three containers full of weapons...yes, this fit what Heller had told him. This general had ordered the weapons, stored them in the Steel Harbor- and then pulled off his men?
He wondered about that.
And not only that, but it weren't only the Dustmen who have gotten their hands on these arms- the other two containers had been empty.
It didn't take a genius to figure out where the other guns had gone: The Reapers had one third of them, and the other gang, these First Sons, had the last third.
Which left him with the question Why the ever-loving fuck they had stored the guns here where people like them could easily find them, and then pull back the troops that were supposed to guard them?
This started looking like an experiment. A social experiment.
Alex scowled, and tendrils rushed over his back. He had enough of experiments. Too many people had died already, and many more were going to die. He needed to put a stop to this.
Moya. His eyes narrowed. Everything seemed to come back to this woman.
He should begin with her.
But the problem was, how?
He had already consumed one of her crew, and came to the realization that, unless he wanted to blow his cover and go overt, he had to get close to her for consumption through other means.
None of the foot soldiers at Stampton Bridge had ever direct physical contact with their own superiors, weren't even allowed anywhere near them, and that curbed in his abilities to simply sneak in. 'An adaptation of their tactics, perhaps? Against him?'
If yes, then it was somewhat worrisome, because it meant they were almost expecting him.
His phone rang, startling him. He pulled back into a crevice in the wall and picked it up.
"Alex?"
"Dana?" She sounded scared. And that drew Alex's entire attention. "What's wrong?"
"Shit is about to hit the fan, big time", Dana explained, "A lot of people got sick, and then violent."
"Fuck"
"Could you come over here? I don't dare going outside without you."
"I'm on my way", Alex promised. He paused, eyes narrowing on the group of Dustmen that discovered him and were now approaching him with their rifles lifted. "Uh, might take a moment longer though."
"Just hurry, please."
"I will" He finished the call and let the phone slip into his pocket, as if he wasn't just being threatened by several dozen gang members in trash bags. Then he lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"Okay." He called out. "You got me. I was just snooping around." His form blurred and settled quickly into his original shape, cutting off any reply the Dustmen could have made. Alex's grin spread across his face as his arms continued to twist and shift, turning into his lethal Claws. "Since Hide and seek didn't go as planned", he drawled out, scraping his talons across the floor, "How about we play some tag?" His eyes flashed crimson beneath his hood, and the Dustmen backed off, own eyes blown wide under their trash bag masks. "Those that manage to run away will survive."
--------
Cole was not having a very good time. When he arrived at Zeke's rooftop, he didn't even exchange any words with his best friend except for telling him to get off the couch, before he flopped down on it himself and remained there. His bad mood was plainly visible on the outside, not only from the deep scowl on his face, but also because of the constant discharge running across his body with lightning arching away from him every so often. Zeke got the hint and didn't ask, just left him to brood. He knew perfectly well if Cole was feeling like talking, he would do so. No need to pressure him.
One hour of senseless face-squished-into-the-smelly-couch-later and the courier felt slightly better. The anger was gone, replaced for confusion and weariness.
He shuffled into their apartment, where he found Zeke sitting at the kitchen table, laptop open and a beer next to his hand. Another beer sat on the table. Cole grunted and scratched the side of his face, where some dried blood flaked off. An assault rifle bullet had hit him there one and a half hour ago. There wasn't even a scar left now, but he hadn't manage to wipe it off.
Zeke arched an eyebrow over the rim of his glasses. "Did I mention you look like shit?"
"I know", Cole grumbled, glancing down at the front of his jacket. He had taken more bullets than ever before, mostly from short distance. His clothes were stained and torn.
He was going to need a new suit, but he was probably going to be shot at, thrown through tar and across rooftops before all of this was over, so he should hold onto that set of clothing until everything was finished to avoid ruining more.
He sat down at the table, grabbed the lone beer and popped the cap off with a lazy flick. Didn't even need a bottle opener.
"Wanna talk about it?" Zeke asked.
"Not really", Cole replied with a sigh. "Though guess it's better if I do. Maybe you can cheer me up."
"So, what happened?" His friend glanced over the rim of his glasses. "I mean, you come in, lookin' like a literal thunderstorm."
"Rescued a train from Reapers", Cole admitted.
"Oh" Zeke frowned. "People dead?"
"Only Reapers. I got the civilians to safety." The courier sighed. "But I got so angry at these guys there, I stormed off."
Zeke didn't ask further, just took a sip from his bottle. Cole turned his around between his fingers before he relented. "You know, yesterday, when I crawled in the sewers- I fixed a transformer. Thousands of volts go through me and I get new powers from it."
"Cool", Zeke's eyes sparked. "And?"
"Healing", Cole explained. "Restraining. Killing. After that, I got grenades, and today I got some sort of slide-along-metal-powers. Handy." He sighed. "Yesterday, I also met a kid in the sewers. He got shot, and I tried those healing powers on him. Then I beat up a bunch of Reapers who took his folks captive." He looked up at his best friend with a small smile. "Kid called me a 'hero'. Honestly, it felt incredible. I was somebody he looked up to."
"Awesome, man!" Zeke grinned, clapping his shoulder. Cole sighed and his expression fell.
"Yeah, but today, the people I rescued from that train told me the same." He snorted. "And that made me angry. You know, the kid hadn't seen me before- he and his folks went into the sewers just after this entire shit went down. They didn't know about the TV Jacker, or me being called a terrorist. But the guys on the train- they did."
He scowled. "They were exactly the same sort of people that threw stones at me just yesterday. Zeke, they shouted at me, told me to go die. And then- those assholes on the train suddenly tell me how good I've been. They praised me, were grateful. This hypocrisy- it made me so angry." He sighed again. "My brain was all clogged up, couldn't think straight. So I stormed off and came here."
Zeke sighed. "Yeah. People're real pain in the ass, if you get my meaning. Can't live with them, can't live without 'em."
Cole dropped his head onto the table, mushing one cheek against the stained plywood surface to glance at Zeke. "What am I supposed to do?" He asked.
"Hell, dunno man", his friend shrugged. "But did you feel any better helpin' folks?"
"Maybe", Cole muttered, "Wasn't anybody else around to do that anyways. And the Reapers have to be knocked down all the pegs, to show them Empire's not theirs to take."
"But what about your own thoughts?"
The courier furrowed his brows. "For one- I have the power. So I used them to do what I thought I should be doing" He smiled awkwardly. "Kind of like Spider-man, you know? Plus Moya's on me too. If I don't want to end up in Guantanamo or somewhere, I probably shouldn't piss her off." He winced a bit when he pulled a sore muscle. "But I kinda wished I would be able to do that without being shot at."
Zeke frowned. "I don't really like the sounds of that woman, Cole. She's all bitchy and bossy and expects you to jump the gun."
The courier exhaled. "I know", he said. "I don't really trust her. She's kicked me out on my ass a few times too often. But then again, if she has the power to clear my name, then I don't have much choice." He paused, frowning. "Though..." He trailed off, glancing at his phone. "Hey, Zek? Can you pull data off my phone?"
"Sure. Can do that, bro. Why, though?"
"I have an audio file", he said, "The guy I'm looking for- John White- he identified Kessler as the one who planted the bomb."
"Hellacious!" Zeke burst out, "With that, everybody will know who's to blame."
Cole winced. "Yeah. Problem though- Moya's gonna have my head if this pops up before we get Kessler. And yours too- so it's probably for the best if we don't make it public before there are more information."
"I would strongly recommend that", Moya's cold voice cut into their conversation, making both cringe back. "In case you have forgotten, Cole, but I can hear everything- and I have access to your phone."
"That's why I said we can't make it public", the courier replied. "Don't worry, Moya- I got this under control. But the data needs to be secured, who knows how long my phone gets lucky and won't get shot?"
"For your sake, I hope you stay true to your word" The woman paused a second, before she continued. "Mister Dunbar. In case your friend didn't tell you- you are expendable. If I notice any of what is said here has found its way into the world wide web, I will make sure you regret it. Personally."
"Dully noted, ma'am."
"Good", Moya turned her attention back to Cole. "You are needed elsewhere, Cole. People are sick again. I thought you've dealt with the tar?"
The tanker. Mercer had destroyed it, and taken the stuff out of the water supplies. But he couldn't let Moya know who it really was. "I did", he replied.
"Well, obviously, it's back. North-Eastern side. Go."
Cole groaned. He was not very keen on getting sprayed with more tar. But there were people affected- and Trish was a nurse. She was probably there, fighting against the symptoms. He couldn't let her down. "I'm on my way", he replied.
However, he grabbed a pencil and a sheet of paper off the counter and scribbled down 'Check out Moya. Make sure you'll get the data off my phone later on. We can't risk her holding all the cards'. Zeke nodded as he followed his friend up the stairs.
Cole sighed and stretched. "Okay. I'm off. See you around, Zeke." He jumped off the roof and landed on top of the subway tracks that ran past their building. He glanced up to his friend, then kicked off and ground along the rails, quickly picking up his speed.
He found and zapped several Reapers on the way, not bothering to stop to deal with them. A well-placed grenade took them out anyways.
As Cole shot along the tracks, he heard something like distant thunderclaps. Only, it wasn't thunder- it was barking. And there was only one dog capable of barking like that.
He jumped off the track and dropped to the ground, heading to where he heard the sounds. He found one of those Heavy Reapers pinned under the massive black shape of Commander, who was angrily snapping at the guy currently trying to free himself.
Cole pursed his lips and let out a sharp whistle, drawing the dog's attention. It looked at him, still snarling. "I got this", the courier called out as he stopped next to the beast, tugging at its collar. "Get off him." His neck was crawling and he couldn't help but throw a look over his back to search for a familiar lanky shape. Nobody to be seen, but that didn't mean anything.
The dog growled, taking his attention as it unwillingly released its prey. The Reaper snarled and tried to get back up, only for Cole to kick him into the chest once. He then balled his fist and made a claw-like motion. The electric fetters snapped into life, holding the junkie down.
The dog made a startled huff, sniffing at the Reaper curiously. Cole patted its head. "Don't worry. The bad man's not going to get up again."
The dog suddenly whipped around, growling, before it took off and charged straight into a Reaper that just peeled out of an alley. Cole swore and followed the fur ball, realizing that there were more of these guys arriving.
And worse- he noticed Trish just on the other side of the road. Somebody the Reapers apparently took notice in as well. The courier threw his body to the front, then leapt at the first two guys who just raised their rifles. He seized both of them and slammed their heads together to knock them out. The dog barked in warning, just in time for Cole to see a Reaper squeeze the trigger of his shotgun. Cole was far away enough to avoid most of the lead shot, but he was still thrown back from the impact, though managed to flip his feet beneath his body to get a steady grip. He shot a lightning bolt at the guy, instantly downing him. A few bullets hit him, biting into his flesh, but he paid it no further mind. Instead, he unleashed a powerful discharge, frying the guys.
Moments later, none of them were left standing. Cole grunted and turned to head over to Trish and Christine, who stared at him with wide eyes. They were both kneeling over several civilians, who were on the ground, whimpering.
"Cole!" Trish gasped, "You're injured!"
Right. The bullets. Cole grit his teeth, trying to smile. "It's only half bad", he replied. "Wait a moment-" He turned towards a lamp post, and drained it. His wounds closed, his head no longer hurt and the bullets dropped to the floor harmlessly. The only exception were his clothes, that would be stained permanently.
"See?" He said, "Only half bad."
He paused, noticing Trish's startled face. "Hey", he tried to reason, "See? I'm okay again."
"Uh- Guys?" Christine's voice cut in- "Sick people getting delirious over here!"
Trish whipped around, swearing under her breath. But also Cole rushed over. A man was on the ground, thrashing wildly and screaming in panic. Between his garbled shrieks and pleas, Cole realized that the man was suffering from hallucinations. Badly. Just like he did yesterday.
'Auditory hallucinations. Visual too? Possibly.'
The man kicked and punched unseen foes, screaming all the way. He nearly hit Christine, who was trying to calm him down, much to her dog's displeasure. The beast ducked and growled, snapping at the man's limbs at the same moment.
Cole acted. He pinned the man to the floor with a foot and unleashed lightning to fashion his lightning manacles again. The man whimpered and pleaded, but couldn't break the fetters- so he couldn't harm himself or any of the others.
"What's going on?" The courier finally asked as he stepped back, his back crawling with the latent feeling of danger. "Where is that tar coming from?" He shook his head, looking around. "I blew up a whole tanker of that stuff under the park, figured that would do it."
"Well, it's coming from somewhere else then", Christine pointed out, holding her angry dog back. "The people aren't getting sick on their own."
"It's in the water", Trish muttered, "But here's no fountain-" Her eyes widened. "The water towers, Cole! I think it's in them!"
Like on cue, Commander suddenly barked out loud, back bristled and dark eyes fixed on something above them. Cole whirled, seeing a Reaper's hood on the building besides them.
"Reapers" He growled, lifting his hand to zap the guy and drop him back. "I'll check things out!" He called out, then hopped against the rainwater drain and scrambled up towards the roof.
Two more Reapers greeted him, but they were easily dealt with.
He heard the gurgle of the black tar, and looked up. Attached to the side of the water tower was a small tank with pipes. Reaper technology? But where did they have it from?
He activated his phone, calling Moya. "Moya", he greeted. "Sick people all over the place. The water from the water towers is infected."
"Can you figure out how they did it?"
"Yes. There's a weird metal keg attached to the tower. Tar's dripping out of it."
"Clever", Moya noticed. "That must be how they're polluting the water. Destroy it."
With pleasure. Cole grabbed the sides of the keg and unleashed lightning, frying its pumps. The keg made a loud groaning noise as it unleashed its entire contents before exploding.
Cole swore under his breath. "Shit!"
"What's wrong?"
"I just made it worse", the courier moaned, "Tried to overcharge the pumps."
Cole frowned. "If I do, I'll get the crap all over me."
"It'll save lives."
Cole exhaled. "Yeah. I know. Doesn't mean I am really happy to do that."
Moya cut the connection, leaving him to continue. Cole leapt off the roof against the building at the other side of the alley and scrambled upwards, latching on window sills and crevices to pull himself up.
Just as he hoisted his body over the edge, a bullet cracked into the ground in front of him. Cole wasted no time to throw his arm out, shooting a lightning bolt into the direction of the Reaper that tried to ambush him.
With no further obstacles to deal with, he climbed to the top of the next water tower. He paused, frowning at the keg. If he overcharged the pump, he would remain clean, but more people would be poisoned.
He couldn't risk this. He didn't want to harm people, not innocent ones and not with this crap, and he didn't want to lose Trish. If anything, he'd seen she still felt something for him, and he couldn't disappoint her.
He grit his teeth and threw his arms out, blowing up the tank with a shockwave. The tar sprayed everywhere, getting into his eyes and sticking to his clothes and face. The backlash from the explosion also knocked him off the tower, sending him tumbling into the streets. His head was throbbing in dull pain and his vision turned blurry and red, so he couldn't really watch where he fell.
He slammed onto the floor hard with the back first, gasping in was away from Trish and Christine too, so they didn't witness it. Small mercy, because Trish would be devastated with grief and panic.
"I know it hurts, Cole", Moya spoke up, trying to sound soothing, "But it's the only way. Too many people will get sick otherwise."
"I know", Cole ground out, staggering upright and heading out to the street. The civilians around him blurred out of focus, some grew, some turned into Reapers.
But this was all not real. Nothing was.
He growled and rubbed his eyes furiously, getting more and more of the stuff off. The effect faded quickly, though, and after shaking his head to clear his vision, he headed topside once more. He couldn't waste time feeling sorry for himself if there was so much left to do. He found another tower, guarded by Reapers. It was clear they didn't want any of those kegs destroyed.
Well, tough. Now they had to deal with the consequences. Cole's expression darkened as he watched the guys careen off the roof after he smacked them with a shockwave, allowing him to climb up the water tower.
He slammed another shockwave into the tank, destroying it and getting doused with the stuff once more. He swore, stumbling back, but managed to stay on the roof this time. His head started to hurt, threatening to split open as he barely managed to get away from the tower and onto the roof. He wouldn't move anywhere, though, not before the effect wore off.
It did, surprisingly fast, too. So either this stuff wasn't as potent as the stuff from yesterday, or Cole was becoming more resistant towards it.
He hoped the latter, because those head trips really grated on his nerves.
He did wish it would clear up faster, though- the longer he wasted his time trying to avoid stumbling drunk across the rooftops, the longer the tar could affect the people, and they, in return, might attack Trish. Cole was worried for her health, so as soon his vision had taken a turn for the normal, he continued moving to find the last of the water towers.
Reapers shot at him from the roof of a hotel. Well, at least they announced the presence of the pumps so helpfully by trying to take him down. Cole scowled and rushed into the blind angle of the building, then quickly pulled himself up, taking the guys by surprise as they were looking for him in the wrong direction.
A white hood appeared at the edge of his vision, and he threw himself to the side, swearing. The shockwave that rushed along the floor missed him only by inches, and his insides still coiled painfully from the proximity. The Reaper conduit snarled and aimed his rifle at him. Cole ripped his arms up and smashed one shockwave of his own into the guy to stagger him, then dove at him and tackled his shoulder into the other's stomach, knocking all breath from his lungs. The man hissed in surprise and teleported away. Cole send out a radar pulse, pinned his location, and started shooting lightning bolts into his direction. The Reaper went down, but Cole also collapsed to his knees, groaning. He felt drained.
He shouldn't have used up that much juice, should he? Usually, he could go for much longer than that.
The tar.
Cole's eyes narrowed as he dragged himself to an air conditioner to drain it and replenish his energy. The tar not only messed with his senses, but also weakened him.
Thank God this shit was not permanent.
However, it meant that there was no way for him to try stick his face into the stuff any more than he'd had to. But still, he wasn't going to endanger anybody else by not destroying the tar kegs. He ground his teeth together and climbed to the top of the next water tower, blowing up the tank and getting another spray of tar to the face.
He reeled back, dropping back to the roof with a poorly-contained swear, lightning arching all around him. His radar senses ran haywire, and his vision was blurring out of focus once more, but there was the feeling of danger, and Cole just barely managed to roll to the side.
Seconds before the rooftop exit exploded in a violent flurry of fire and rubble.
Cole whirled around, vertigo taking its toll, at the sight of the blast. He heard a faint snarl, drawing his attention towards a roof on the other side of the street. He saw a Reaper there- one with a bazooka.
A rocket was launched towards him. Cole's eyes widened and he flung his arms out, grinding his teeth together as the entire roof made a back flip, but his shockwave did hit the missile in mid-air. And not only that- he managed to literally turn it right around and send it back to where it came from.
The Reaper went up in flames.
Cole groaned and dropped to the ground, willing the tar's effect to wear off. It took too long for his taste, but there was nothing he could do to speed it up. He grunted and shook his head gently, then slowly climbed back to his feet to check for other water towers. He found another one, just across the parking lot on top of a larger office building. Luckily, this building didn't have a smooth glass facade, making reaching the top easy. There was also only one Reaper nearby, and this one was easily dealt with. But he really didn't want to suffer from another head trip again. The last one had been worse than the one before, and that had already been more aggressive than the first. More contact with the black tar would probably make his brain leak from his ears. Or, at the very least, feel like it.
Maybe he could try something?
Cole exhaled and focused for a moment, then lifted his hands towards the tank. With one mental command, he unleashed a shockwave, though this time he relaxed his muscles to propel himself backwards and away from the spraying tar.
He hit the rooftop at an awkward angle, his shoulders and back of his skull taking most of the blow. But it worked nonetheless. He had avoided the black tar. He grinned, even as he rolled his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck to get the knots out from his rough landing.
"Guess that's it", he mused, looking around. "No more tar kegs." He slowly got to his feet, dusting off his pants, when he realized just how silent everything had become. There had been several Reapers on the other roofs, but now...
Cole glanced around, noticing with a start that every Reaper within the closer vicinity lied in a crumpled heap on the rooftops, some hanging half over the edges, or having splattered against the floor beneath.
Somebody had taken them out. Cole swallowed hard, looking around. This had better not be Mercer's work again.
A hooded figure drew his attention, making him whirl around in mild panic. He noticed three seconds later that it wasn't Mercer. But...that one over there wasn't one of the Reaper conduits either.
No, he was moving with too much purpose, striding across a lower rooftop like he owned the city. Cole frowned, then jerked back startled when the guy suddenly vanished- and re-appeared directly next to him. He had teleported- and much farther than the Reaper conduits could go.
He stared at the man, muscles tensing in preparation for battle. His heart was beating faster, and his blood started boiling.
Something was...off about that man.
But...he didn't look too dangerous. He was an old man. His chin was hidden by a gray scarf, his white trench coat was tattered and his sweatshirt's hood was over his head, hiding the wrinkled face. He had a metal gauntlet attached to his right arm (a glove?), and he had several metallic, blue glowing attachments on his dark undercoat. He didn't look like a Reaper, though, mostly because Reapers didn't wear shoes. Cole could see a scar on his face, but it were his eyes that made him feel uneasy. They were literally glowing blue, with no discernible iris or pupil.
While Cole was rooted to the spot, not knowing whether to run or to fight, the man glanced at the broken tar pumps. His lips were quirked upwards in a small smirk.
"She's going to be pretty pissed about this", he noted. Cole's back went ramrod straight. He knew that voice, damnit. He had heard it somewhere before- but he couldn't really place it. The only thing he knew was that the guy could probably disarm an army with his voice alone.
He tried to work his tongue. "Who the Hell are you?" He asked, carefully.
The man's smirk seemed to grow a bit. "Just a concerned citizen", he told him. Cole furrowed his brows. Riiight. Of course he was. Something was just wrong with that guy. His guts said so.
This better not end up with him being dragged across the rooftops with giant claws again.
The man's voice dropped suddenly into a sort of threatening sneer. Every alarm bell inside Cole's head started blaring. All that went through his head was Danger. He had to get away.
"Now hold still", the man said- and lunged towards the courier.
Cole couldn't react quick enough. Nobody should be moving that fast!
He was too slow to react when the man reached him, digging icy fingers into the younger man's temples. Cole struggled against him, every inch of his consciousness screaming at him to run- when his body suddenly went limp.
Images flashed in front of his eyes. Horrible images. He couldn't recognize any of it, but he was aware that this was total and utter devastation he saw. Fire flashed before him, the feeling of panic and horror turned his blood to ice as he watched. He saw cities- unknown to him- vanish in domes of light and flames. He saw people reduced to charred bones at the blink of an eye. He heard innocents scream, he felt them die. He saw the world dying.
And in the center of it all was a massive burning figure, roaring into the blood red sky.
His brain lurched with one clear notion: The man was showing him the future. This was what awaited him? Death and destruction on an unimaginable scale. And the man- the man who was holding him- was responsible for all of this.
His body was shaking so badly, he had no control over his muscles as the man released him, letting him drop to the ground in an undignified heap. It was even worse than his meeting with Mercer the night before. He hadn't been that afraid when facing the terrorist. But this man, this old man- he was dangerous. Cole groaned, trying to get his body to move, tried to get the tremors wrecking his system back under control.
Trying to get away as far as possible from the- Cole inhaled sharply. The man was gone.
He whipped around, trying to catch a glance of the white coat, but there was nothing to be seen. He was utterly alone.
But the voice- the voice of the old man.
He now remembered where he heard it before. I believe you're holding a package for me. You're exactly where you should be. See you soon, Cole.
That was before the blast. That had been before the Ray Sphere blew up, killing thousands.
And that meant... Cole gasped in terror and scrabbled against his chest, trying to get his phone to work.
"Moya!" He snapped, panicking.
"Cole? There was some heavy static on your side. Is everything alright?"
"No! Nothing is alright!" The courier more or less screamed. "Shit, Moya! I've just seen this guy!"
"What guy?", Moya asked, then her voice pitched. "John?"
"No- not John", Cole's fingers were trembling. "Kessler!"