The Magistracy: School Fears

[csyphrett]

1

Hope Roberts tossed on her bed. She made a noise that sounded like no. She turned over on her

side. She fell off the side of her bed.

 

She snapped awake on impact. She took a moment to look around. How did she wind up on the

floor?

 

She sat up. The side of her face hurt. She rubbed it as she pulled her comforter around her.

 

She wasn’t one for nightmares, but what she had experienced had left her with a sense of dread. She

tried to remember the details. The dream eluded her as she concentrated.

 

Maybe she should talk this over with Paul Priest. He had a way of putting things in perspective.

Maybe it would reduce the feeling the dream had given her.

 

Hope decided to get some tea before getting ready to go in. That should help her nerves some.

 

She had faced danger before. A dream shouldn’t bother her at all. She felt unclean trying to

remember what it was about.

 

She pulled on her bathrobe, and padded to her small kitchen. She put a pot of water on to boil. She

pulled a plastic jug out of a pantry. She poured a cup of sugar into jug.

 

The water boiled after a few minutes. She threw in seven tea bags and watched the water turn

brown. She cut the stove off, pulled the bags out, and poured the tea into the jug. She added a pot

of tap water to fill up the jug. She put the pot back on the stove to cool. The tea bags went into her

trashcan. She rinsed the funnel off. She capped the jug and shook it to mix the tea and sugar

together.

 

She pulled a glass off the shelf. She poured the still warm tea into the glass. She put the jug in her

fridge to cool. She sipped the warm drink as she went to her window. Her kitchen had a view of the

place behind her’s. Nothing moved over there.

 

She sipped the tea as she thought. Headlights moved on the street beyond her neighbor’s house. She

put it down to the newspaper man. It was about time for him to make his rounds.

 

She decided that she wasn’t going back to sleep. She might as well get dressed and head into work.

Maybe there would be something that needed to be looked at when she got there.

 

Hope went back to her bedroom, pulled out a pants suit, and showered and got ready for the work

day. The nebulous fear lurked in the back of her mind. It made her keep her service weapon close

at hand in the bathroom.

 

She didn’t want someone busting in on her while she was using the toilet.

 

She dressed and locked up before she went to her car. If she had talked to the Replacement before

coming home, she would have copied his powers and flown home. Depending when she got up, she

could have flown back to the Office.

 

The commute to work was a pain if you had to drive. That’s one of the reasons she liked to fly.

 

Flying was a reason on its own.

 

She drove into the city, angling for the Hoover building. She skirted around it until she found the

lot for her own building a few blocks away. She pulled into the lot.

 

She looked around before getting out of her car. She felt like she was under glass. She didn’t see

anyone nearby. She put it down to the aftereffects of her nightmare.

 

She needed to talk to Priest about that. Maybe he could give her some advice on how to handle

things like that.

 

She didn’t usually have nightmares. Her mind tended to focus on the positive aspects of life.

Nightmares were repelled by her usual good nature. She wondered why she was having them now.

 

The School worked tons of cases in a year, but the last major one she had worked with her team was

the stone in Iowa. She wondered if the stone was bothering her now after so much time had passed.

 

She didn’t discount the possibility. That thing had been evil. She was glad that it had been broken.

Leaving it out there to poison the land would have been a bad move in her opinion.

 

And she liked cows. Saving the ones nearby had been a bonus as far as she was concerned.

 

She passed through security with an exchange about being to work early. She headed up to the

Bullpen. She needed something to eat, and some Mountain Dew, before she started her day for real.

 

The place looked so lonely with no one on the job. It was like a ghost town in the middle of the

desert. She placed her bag on her desk as she headed for the vending machines in the back of the

room in a break area. She bought five dollars worth of snacks and two bottles of Mountain Dew.

 

She needed to start bringing food and drink from home just to save the money.

 

She must spend half her pay in those things.

 

Hope started her computer while munching on an energy bar and swigging part of her soda. It

chirped at her as it booted up. The next thing on the agenda was any open case files she might

be able to turn into a job.

 

The director handed jobs down that he was interested in, other agencies handed over jobs they

thought they couldn’t handle because a superhuman was involved, and her immediate boss, Jeff

Ashcroft, took any job where he could shoot a moving target.

 

She suspected watching inanimate objects explode, and holes appearing in animate objects was his

main reason to come to work.

 

She looked around. He wasn’t in yet. That was good.

 

She could do without his grumpiness while she went over the files. He tended to read over people’s

shoulders when he didn’t have anything of his own to do.

 

Hope flipped through the files. She didn’t see anything that warranted a field team to take care

of. She shut them down.

 

She decided to play something while she waited for the others to come in. Maybe Director Morrow

was sitting on something for them to do. He tended to be careful about sending them out after

somebody.

 

He liked to know all the angles.

 

She signed into Kongregate and started up her favorite tower game. She saw that the Replacement

was online. She smiled. Maybe she should go over to what he was playing and put the whooping

on him.

 

She decided not to do that when the game he was playing showed that he was putting all of his

opponents down. Loud explosions ripped through the game field.

 

Hope decided that challenging her colleague at his own game was not the brightest thing she could

do.

 

“In early, PG.” The chat box lit up in his customary blue lettering. She smiled. She should have

known he would have noticed she was lurking.

 

“Couldn’t sleep.” She looked at his game. Most of the players blipped out after their loss. “Looks

like you put the crushing on.”

 

“Amateurs.” The Replacement didn’t talk in person. A computer, or text box, was the only way

he could. “Due in in a couple of hours. Could come in early if you want the company.”

 

“That would be cool.” Hope liked the Replacement. He always looked out for others. “Nothing

is going on here.”

 

“Will be there in a couple of minutes.” The Replacement sent over a smiley face. “Let me get this

last guy.”

 

Explosions ripped through the playing field as the Replacement’s proxies set fire to everything that

moved. His opponent lost half of his forces in the first salvo. He gave up and quit before the rest

could be destroyed.

 

“Will be there in a few.” The Replacement logged out.

 

Hope tried the game. Most of her forces were exterminated in a few seconds. She frowned.

Replacement made it look so easy to counter. What was she doing wrong?

 

The Replacement walked into the Bullpen. He wore black from head to toe, with a full facemask.

No one saw his face ever if he could help it. Hope had never seen it personally.

 

She had asked. He had replied Injured to the question, so she had left it alone.

 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Her phone lit at the text.

 

“I had a bad dream.” She didn’t bother to text back since he was in the room with her. “I can’t

remember what it was about, but I can’t quite shake the feeling of being watched.”

 

“Saint?” She nodded. Their teammate counseled people in his spare time. He might be a help with

this. He was the obvious choice to talk to if you had a problem.

 

Jeff didn’t have an interest if he couldn’t shoot it, and the other two members of their field team

weren’t quite up to speed with what being a human meant.

 

“I don’t want to be pulled off the team because of some stupid nightmare.” He nodded at the

sentiment.

 

“Pointer wouldn’t.” The Replacement couldn’t smile with his full mask. “He would just throw you

out front.”

 

She laughed. Pointer would do something like that.

 

She checked her supplies. She had a couple of candy bars and a bottle of Dew. She opened a bar

and took a bite. She took a sip of soda. Sugar mixed together to wake her up some.

 

Jeff tried, but his expression of friendliness tended to be get him some coffee, and quit talking.

 

Sometimes he shot at you if he found you too irritating.

 

“Want some?” She held out a candy bar.

 

Replacement shook his head. He didn’t eat. It went with his lack of speech.

 

She finished her paltry meal and bottle of soda.

 

“I’m still hungry.” She threw the wrappers away. “Let’s go down to the biscuit place.”

 

Replacement made the okay sign with his hand. He followed as she walked to the door. They took

the elevator and passed back through security to get Hope’s car. She drove them down to the small

diner called Jim’s Place, but known by the locals as the biscuit place.

 

They took a table with a view of the lot. The customers leaned away from the table. Most of them

had badges and guns, but the Replacement was known by his black silhouette.

 

He could take an artillery shell, but no one else in the room could.

 

“I’ll have one of everything.” Hope told the waitress when she arrived at their table. “Some coffee,

and some juice.”

 

“Sea food diet, huh?” The waitress wrote down some things on her pad. She looked at the masked

man, who shook his head. “This might take a while. I’ll bring your coffee right away.”

[TheQuestionMan]

Re: The Magistracy: School Fears

 

Good Story... The context occassionally alluded me.

 

More please

 

QM

[csyphrett]

Re: The Magistracy: School Fears

 

It's the middle part of a five part deal. This is the part where the bad guys try to kill the heroes for knowing too much

CES

[csyphrett]

Re: The Magistracy: School Fears

 

2

Paul Priest straightened his collar as he made sure everything was in its place in his bathroom. His

thin hair contrasted with the unlined youthfulness of his face. He pulled on his jacket and folded

his coat over his shoulder.

 

It was reminder of past responsibilities that he had laid aside to work for the government.

 

The church had been a calling when he was younger, but his ability to put down spirits had been

something that he could use for the greater good without interference from the local diocese if he

moved away from the church.

 

Some of the things he had seen as a cleric had made his decision that much easier.

 

Paul had picked up an abandoned church. He had hired some workers to convert it to dorms for

people to use. He used a living space at the rear of the church. Some of his tenants had been unruly.

They made a mistake of doing that in front of Jeff Ashcroft when he had come by to pick his agent

up for a job. After that, the place was in better shape than when he had bought it.

 

Ashcroft’s shoot first attitude frequently got him reprimanded, but he did what he could to minimize

danger to his field team while inflicting as much harm as he could on his enemies.

 

But don’t expect him to like doing the paperwork after it was over.

 

Paul had secured a grant, and earned some money thanks to a fund the government had set up for

him. He was required to be available for photo opportunities as part of his job. He put up with it to

some extent, but sometimes let Ashcroft take the lead.

 

Hilarity often broke out when that happened.

 

Paul earned his trust money smoothing down hurt feelings as much as possible.

 

He locked his place up as he stepped out. A lot of his regulars were trustworthy, but some of the

drifters tended to do things without thinking.

 

He didn’t have anything to steal, but he wanted to keep a casual search out of the question.

 

He walked over to the main door to the converted church. Some of the people who had come in

from the streets had decided to work to help other people. It made things easier for him.

 

“Hello, Mr. Cavendish.” Paul gave the main dorm a look from the foyer. “How are things?”

 

“It’s been quiet, Mr. Priest.” Mr. Cavendish looked down at his clipboard. “We were at capacity

last night. Some of the people have already taken to the streets.”

 

“Thank you.” The Saint nodded at the report. “Have you got enough for you and the others?”

 

“We’re fine.” He smiled. More than half of his teeth were missing. “We can feed half the city

thanks to the donations that have come through. Some of our people have come in with temp jobs.”

 

“So they’re moving out?” Paul smiled. It felt good to help people back on their feet.

 

“Maude is helping with the housing people.” Cavendish tossed his head. “You know the

government. They always want the proof of a negative.”

 

Paul smiled.

 

“If Mrs. Cavendish has a problem, tell her I will ask Jeff Ashcroft to look into it for her.” He

checked his watch.

 

“I don’t think she’ll need have anyone shot.” Cavendish flashed a smile.

 

“He can’t shoot everyone.” Priest smiled. “I have to get to work. I’ll check in when I get home.”

 

“Be careful.” Cavendish nodded as the agent stepped out on the front steps.

 

Paul pulled on his black coat, the white collar pulled around his neck. He scanned the street as he

walked to the company car parked in the lot next to the converted church.

 

A van idled at the curb. It started rolling forward. The side door opened as it turned into the lot.

 

Paul knew this was trouble. He didn’t usually carry a weapon. He started toward his car. He needed

some help.

 

He supposed this was the price for being a noncombatant.

 

Men dropped out of the van. They all looked the same to the Saint as he ran across the lot. He filed

that in the back of his mind. It reminded him of Triple, except there was eight of them.

 

They rushed the car, glowing as they ran across the parking lot. He thought that had to be a bad

sign. He pulled his phone and pushed the emergency number. He ran with the car directly behind

him as cover.

 

They exploded as soon as they touched the car. He dropped to the ground as the rolling thunder

deafened him. He looked over his shoulder as the glow of the blasts evaporated in the air. Eight

more of the identical men dropped out of the van as it rolled across the lot.

 

That couldn’t be good.

 

Paul picked himself up and ran from the shelter. He didn’t need anyone getting hurt when he was

the target. He didn’t know his enemy. He put that out of his mind. He had to escape before he could

worry about who was after him.

 

Exploding clones was a distinctive enough as a method that he was surprised that he couldn’t recall

dealing with anything like that before.

 

The van paused as sirens sounded. Someone had called the police. The clones blew up where they

stood and the vehicle made a hasty u-turn and rolled on the street. It drove away as innocently as

it could.

 

Paul’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out as he surveyed the damage. His car had been

reduced to burning tires and flung debris. A small crater was really eight indentations joined

together.

 

“Hello?” Paul watched as Washington’s Finest arrived with sirens and flashing lights. “The police

are here now. I’ll talk to them.”

 

The policemen got out of their cars with guns drawn. They looked at the destruction and the one

man talking on the phone. The man held up a badge as he watched them approach.

 

The Cavendishs and some of the tenants stood on the front steps of the shelter. He waved at them

to let them know he was okay.

 

Paul supposed it was only a matter of time that someone would come after him at his home. He had

tried to keep that away from his public persona. At least no one had been hurt.

 

“Everything is all right now, Mr. Cavendish.” He gestured for them to go back inside. “I’ll be in

in a moment to talk to you about this.”

 

“What happened?” The senior uniform put his weapon away. He wasn’t going to shoot a federal

agent no matter how much he wanted to.

 

“I think it was an attempted murder.” Paul smiled. “Thanks for saving my life. The perpetrator was

driving a brown van. I didn’t get a plate number. The occupants can blow themselves up, so if you

see it, don’t approach.”

 

“What?” The uniform looked confused by the statement.

 

“Suicide bombers.” Paul held his phone to his ear. He knew the Office was moving into action. “If

you get too close, you will be killed in an explosion.”

 

“Got that.” The uniform spoke in his shoulder mike to put units in the area on the look out for a

brown van, armed and dangerous, do not approach.

 

“Forensics are on the way.” Paul put his phone away. “All we have to do until they get here is

secure the scene and have a cup of tea. Want one?”

 

“Your agency running this?” The uniform pulled a notebook while the other patrolmen drove off

to look for the van.

 

“Yes.” The Saint frowned at his car. He had just paid it off. “My team leader is going to want to

track down the others involved personally.”

 

“No problem.” The policeman wrote down everything he saw as part of his own report. It was

something he would have to have so he could hand the scene over.

 

The Replacement dropped out of the sky. His all black costume and hood conspired to make him

appear like a bird turning into a man. He looked around on landing, shaking his head.

 

“It’s not my fault.” Paul brushed off his coat. “The suspects fled in a brown van.”

 

Replacement nodded before taking flight again. He circled like a vulture before heading south.

 

“Can I borrow your car?” The Saint checked his phone. “Replacement has a location for us.”

 

“I’ll drive you.” The cop put his notebook away. He walked around to the driver’s side. Paul had

to get in the back.

 

“It looks like it’s two streets over.” Paul pointed in the direction he wanted. “Replacement says it’s

destroyed.”

 

The policeman drove away from the shelter down the block and then turned. Paul told him where

the van had been left. Smoke took over the job for him.

 

The policeman pulled to the corner of a mom and pop store. He got out and opened the door for

Paul. They approached the van. An explosion had ripped it in half.

 

“Anyone inside?” Paul frowned at the pieces. Only one of the exploding men had been used by the

looks of it.

 

Replacement shook his head.

 

“Looks like we’re at a dead end at the moment.” Paul placed a call to let the Office know what they

had found.

 

“Let me get the tape.” The officer went to the trunk of his car and pulled out a roll of do not cross,

crime scene tape. He strung it up around the demolished van.

[csyphrett]

Re: The Magistracy: School Fears

 

3

Jeff Ashcroft glared at the mess he found at his team member’s residence. He glared at the police

who tried to stop him. He glared at the craters in the parking lot. He glared at his subordinates.

 

It was his default expression.

 

“Morning, Jeff.” The Saint tried to offset the contained fury with a smile. He could see that it wasn’t

working.

 

“What happened?” Ashcroft figured on artillery shells dropping down on the parking lot.

 

“A small dust-up.” Paul Priest waved at the blast crater. “Living bombs. They fled when the police

seemed to be in the neighborhood.”

 

“Know them?” Jeff didn’t believe in random attacks. Those happened to civilians. Anyone after

one of his guys had a reason.

 

“No.” The Saint scratched his nose as he thought. “Never saw them before.”

 

“The Replacement goes everywhere you go until we find out what’s going on.” Jeff glared down

any thought of argument. “Go in, look through the mug books. Maybe someone dealt with them

before.”

 

The Replacement threw him a silent salute. He picked up his teammate and took to the sky. He

soared toward the Office, scattering birds who didn’t know to get out of his way until he was on

them.

 

Ashcroft looked for the person in charge of gathering evidence. He needed to look at things for

himself. The expert could answer any question he might have while he studied the lay of the land.

 

“What happened?” He held up his badge to get access.

 

“Someone blew up your guy’s car with prejudice.” The speaking tech had his back to Jeff. That

allowed him to avoid the full effects of the death glare.

 

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.” Jeff did a slow clap. “I would never had guessed that. I would have

just thought that the thing committed suicide by chewing a grenade. How about this? How did

they blow up the car?”

 

“We don’t know yet.” The tech turned around. He blanched at the anger. “We think it was a power.”

 

“So you got nothing?” Ashcroft walked around the blast zone. He figured the angles, the placement

of debris, the burnt metal.

 

“We don’t have a way to trace what was used.” The tech indicated the scorch marks. “None of this

had any trace of explosive in the initial field test. We took samples and sent them in. My feeling

is explosives wasn’t used in any way. The witness said he saw octopulets running at his car and

then they exploded on contact.”

 

“Octopulets?” Jeff didn’t want to admit it was a new one on him. It softened his shooting gaze.

 

“It’s like twins, but...,” The tech paused at the return of the fury.

 

“I know what it is.” Jeff wondered if he should shoot the guy and get someone brighter on the job.

It would be so easy.

 

He thought about the paperwork and got a grip on his anger. He didn’t want to fill out thirty pages

with documentation for a claim of accidental discharge of weapon.

 

“We think that they might explode and come back together.” The tech shrugged. “We just don’t

know how they did it.”

 

“Why eight?” Ashcroft didn’t think the number was important except as an indicator of a range. It

didn’t mean anything if the bomber had just wanted to put eight lookalikes on the field, but could

do much more.

 

“It’s another thing we don’t know.” The crime scene investigator shrugged. “The only thing we do

know is that these guys explode whenever they come in contact with a target. They might explode

accidentally if they run into anything else while they are charging.”

 

Jeff nodded. If you were a bomb, and someone threw a rock at you at the wrong point, boom you

went short of your target. That probably explained why they ran from the police.

 

Their ability was a two edged sword.

 

“Have you done the other crime scene?” Replacement had said a van had been exploded. Saint said

it matched up with the getaway vehicle.

 

“Another team is on it.” The tech pulled out his phone. “They sent me this.”

 

He worked his phone and held it so Jeff could look at the tiny screen. The van in the picture had

been blown up like his subordinate’s car. He frowned at the evidence canceling move.

 

“Copy everything and send it over to my agency.” Jeff took one last look around the scene.

 

“Sure, but we don’t have anything but a method.” He put his phone away. “So far, the van doesn’t

have any prints, and it looks like it was stolen just to do this job.”

 

“Do what you can.” Ashcroft turned away. “This scumbag tried to kill a federal agent at his home.

Someone like that isn’t likely to stop trying unless we stop him.”

 

Jeff pulled out his phone as he walked to his company car. He pushed the button to get his opposite

number. He needed to know if there were pictures of the event.

 

“Stark.” The voice sounded controlled and leisurely.

 

“You have any of your spies working here in D.C.?” Ashcroft got behind the wheel. He didn’t start

the engine of his car. He wanted a destination first.

 

“It was the first thing Paul requested when he got to the Office.” Stark had a number of orbital

cameras he used with a helmet to get a tactical view of his surroundings. “I gave him some

footage to look over after doing a quick scan.”

 

“Did you see where they went?” Jeff smiled at what might be his first lead.

 

“No.” The smile quickly became a frown again. “Autopilot won’t chase things unless I tell them

to.”

 

“Did you look at the scan?” Stark had spent most of his career observing things. “What did you

think?”

 

“Paul was the target. They went right for him.” His assessment matched Jeff’s own at least. “I

suppose you think the same thing since the Replacement is sitting on him like a mother duck.”

 

“I’ll be at the Office as soon as I can.” Jeff cut the line. His team was under attack. Someone would

have to die for that.

 

Jeff started the car. He drove out of the lot and through the streets to the other scene. He paused to

watch the technicians work. He decided it was one of the most effective torch jobs he had ever seen.

 

At least he knew three things about his enemy. He didn’t like what the deductions told him.

 

They were careful enough to destroy anything that might lead back to them. That led to a

professional type of killer.

 

They had attacked Saint at his home. Somehow they had hunted him down in the city after learning

his identity. Powers meant they didn’t have to be part of the bureaucracy to find out who he was.

They just had to find a trail.

 

They had only wanted to deal with the Saint. The police presence had prompted them to flee instead

of attacking. Maybe the tech had been right that bullets would detonate the octopulets before they

reached the target.

 

It still left him with questions that he needed to answer. How many were involved in this? Was

it personal with the Saint, or against his team? Who and where were they? What could he use to

track them down?

 

Jeff headed for headquarters. Options turned in his mind, but he didn’t have any traction yet. He

needed to see whatever Watcher’s spies had caught. Maybe there was a clue there.

 

He had a feeling that Morrow would want him to let Watcher do the lifting on this. He didn’t plan

to do that. Anyone who came after him, got shot.

 

He scanned the streets as he closed on the Office. The guy might try for an assault on the building

despite the fact that it was full of armed agents and whomever was there from the two field teams.

Things like that were known to happen if the superhuman thought he was bad enough.

 

If they did assault the building, it would make his job a lot easier.

 

He parked in the lot and passed through security. The guards seemed to be extra alert. Someone

must have told them what had happened to the Saint earlier.

 

He headed upstairs with a wave. He needed to see that footage for himself. There was a small

chance that the enemy was someone they knew.

 

It would make it easier for them to find and shoot him.

 

He stepped into the Bullpen. Poster Girl, Replacement, and the Saint was in a corner with mug

books in hand. Watcher had a cup of coffee, checking his computer at his desk. He looked up at Jeff

as the team leader approached.

 

“We might have a breach.” Watcher kept his voice down. “Hope had something on her. Paul erased

it without telling her.”

 

“It fits in with knowledge of who the Saint is.” Jeff looked at his screen. Watcher had the footage

from the bombing on his screen. “Where are the others?”

 

“Holo and Currenta are on the way in, most of my guys are having breakfast in the break room.”

Watcher typed a command. A map of the city appeared in a window. Markers indicated the two

agents’ position. “I told them to stay together until we figure out what’s going on.”

 

“Whatever this guy is, his living bombs might explode on impact.” Jeff filled him in on the

speculation.

 

“Makes sense.” Watcher glanced at the trio. “I wonder if this has anything to do with those stones.

They’re the only major case we have in common.”

 

“Only if someone goes after your team.” Jeff regretted saying that. It was like tempting fate. “Who

else is not here?”

 

“Granite.”

[csyphrett]

Re: The Magistracy: School Fears

 

4

 

The walking hunk of rock known as Granite walked around the city aimlessly. He rarely rested long

enough for it to be called sleep, only ate minerals, and had lost his parents sometime when he

had first transformed. He couldn’t remember what had happened to them and it bothered him,

but he couldn’t do anything about it.

 

The others thought he was some kind of mutant, or maybe magic in some way. He didn’t want to

tell them he used to be a kid growing up not far from where he was walking. He didn’t want to tell

them he had lost all of his limbs when he was young and been helpless. He didn’t want to tell them

about the hours of thinking he had spent trapped in that body until he had got his new one.

 

He never wanted to go back to being helpless and trapped at the mercy of anyone who came along.

 

He also didn’t think the others would understand. They were mostly normal, or aliens. They

never mentioned the equivalent of being stuck in a chair with a mouth tube controller to tell it

where to roll. If they didn’t have their powers, they would still be normal.

 

He paused at a van pulling alongside. He wondered if this was some kind of driveby. The slow

driving reminded him of hundreds of movies where the victim was shot by the passengers of the

car before it sped away.

 

He wasn’t worried. He could take up to a missile launcher before he felt it. Anything less than

that would flatten on impact.

 

The side door of the van opened. A crew steered a cannon in place to point at the moving rock. It

looked almost like an artillery piece.

 

Granite didn’t think he could take a blast from that. He hadn’t wanted to test the toughness of his

stone hide on the range. It made him feel like a guinea pig.

 

Maybe he should have gone ahead with it so he would know he could take being shot with the small

howitzer he was looking at.

 

Granite grabbed a street sign and pulled it out of the ground with a flex of his arm. He ran from the

van in the hopes they couldn’t shoot in any direction but straight. If he could get in front of the

carrier, he could stop this battle before too many people got hurt.

 

The van sped up to keep him in front of the cannon. The weapon roared as it rocked the vehicle as

it fired. The shell hit a parked car by accident. That went up in a cloud of metal and flame. The

wave threw the moving rock back, but he kept his feet.

 

He decided he didn’t want to be hit dead on with one of those shells. He liked being alive too much

for that.

 

Granite gripped the sign post in his hand like a javelin. The first order of business was stopping the

van from moving. That would make avoiding its cannon easy to do while he talked with the crew.

He threw the post as hard as he could.

 

The metal rod punched through the front tire nearest him. A smile crossed his face as the post dug

into the street. They would have to pry the obstruction loose before the vehicle could move again.

 

“Let’s see them shoot at me now.” Granite started toward the driver’s door. He planned to introduce

his bulky hand to the man’s noggin so he had someone to question.

 

The cannon fired into a house. He turned to wrench it free from its mounting. He groaned at the

crew opening fire just to give him a distraction. He realized they had a belt of shells and had set the

machine to fire itself while they piled out of the other side of the van and ran for it.

 

Granite pulled the belt from the cannon before it could feed another shell into the breech. He

slapped the barrel so it pointed straight up. He yanked the whole mechanism out of the van and

dropped it on the ground.

 

Who did he know that wanted him dead at the moment?

 

He squeezed the cannon barrel shut before running to the destroyed house. He pulled out his

phone to call in the emergency. Someone might be hurt under the collapsed and burning wood.

 

“Agent Stark speaking.” Watcher’s voice cleared the panic out of his head.

 

“I have an emergency, boss.” Granite began to dig into the pile with his blunt fingers. “I need an

ambulance, fire, police.”

 

“I see you.” Stark’s spies in the sky must be hovering over the city for such a quick response.

“Replacement is on his way.”

 

Granite hung up. He needed both hands and the Replacement was on his way. He could explain

what happened when the rest of the crew got there, or when he got to the Office.

 

He wasn’t leaving until he was sure that no one had been hurt when the cannon fired. Honking

penetrated and he realized that he was hearing car alarms. He supposed he had been too busy to

notice the results of the first firing.

 

Replacement dropped out of the sky. He was the team’s powerhouse, and one of the most powerful

heroes on the planet. Few could go toe to toe with him.

 

Poster Girl arrived a second later. She pitched in with her copied power, pulling up boards and

placing them out of the way.

 

“See anyone?” Granite moved into the pile of house that was left from the impact.

 

“No bodies.” Poster Girl waved her hand in a burst of speed that produced a wind to blow a flame

out.

 

Replacement shook his hooded head.

 

“Maybe I got lucky.” The rock man paused to look around. He could see someone being reduced

to bits if they had been standing in front of the shell when it exploded.

 

“I’ll say.” Poster Girl indicated the damaged cannon. “Someone wanted you dead.”

 

“I don’t know who I crossed enough to start shooting up the city.” Granite had always thought he

represented a tough target. Why go for the living rock, when you can get the guy in the weird

helmet?

 

“They went after the Saint this morning.” She brushed off her hands as she pulled up part of a wall

that had remained together. “It’s not just you.”

 

“So who have we messed with to have them go after us personally?” Granite paused as sirens filled

the air.

 

The regular emergency services was on the way. He could hand things over and then get down

to trying to figure out who to hit.

 

“The boss thinks it’s about the stones we ran into on our last jobs.” Poster Girl floated out to the

cannon. She almost smiled at the crushed barrel. “That’s the only things we have in common.”

 

“We ran into monsters in New York.” Granite objected to the idea. “People shot at me.”

 

“Exploding guys went after Saint at his home.” She waved at a fire truck to come deal with the two

fires burning merrily.

 

“So how do we get to these guys?” The rock man flexed his hands. He had a surge of anger. He

fought to keep it down. He was a stone. He needed to act like it.

 

“Pointer is working on it.” Poster Girl made a finger gun.

 

Granite rarely worked with the other crew chief, but he knew the man’s reputation was deserved.

He liked to put holes in his enemies more than anyone else the stone had encountered.

 

Police arrived with the fire trucks. They spread out to cover the neighborhood. Granite frowned.

He would be stuck while giving his statement. He looked at the damage. They needed to get

these guys before they blew up people.

 

He figured he could give Pointer a run for his money in the damage department. He could try.

 

He wasn’t going to tell the crew chief that. That would cause a bunch of oneupmanship on who

could hurt more people the most.

 

He wasn’t sure he could beat Pointer at that game.

[csyphrett]

Re: The Magistracy: School Fears

 

5

 

Jeff Ashcroft and Aaron Stark watched the action on the screen. Stark’s watchdogs had arrived

in time to record the attack on Granite. One of them followed one of the attackers through the city

as he walked away from the destroyed van.

 

“It looks like he’s headed toward the river.” Stark had donned his armor and helmet for better

control over the flying spy. “Maybe he’s got a boat.”

 

“Is this our only lead?” Ashcroft rubbed his eye with the palm of his hand.

 

“So far.” Stark’s voice was a little tinny behind his visor. “I had Hope give me the serial number

off that cannon. It was stolen with a shipment of munitions from Fort Benning. I don’t have an idea

where it’s been the last few months.”

 

“Prior planning.” Pointer frowned. “Give me an address. I want to pick this guy up and squeeze him

until we get a name.”

 

“They might be expecting this.” Stark glanced at his counterpart. “They know enough about us to

target us here in the city. This might be some kind of trap.”

 

“I hope so.” Ashcroft smiled. “I’ll take someone with me.”

 

“I’ll keep an eye on our pigeon until you can get him.” Stark checked his other spies for unusual

activity. “I might lose him if he finds someplace that can block my view.”

 

Ashcroft pulled on his jacket. He left his tie on his desk. He looked around the Bullpen. He needed

someone silent and fast for this. His wandering eyes fell on Puma Sai typing a report with his index

fingers.

 

“Hey, Puma.” Ashcroft waved him to follow. “We’re picking up a suspect.”

 

The man in black leaped over his desk and followed quietly. He headed into the stairwell while the

crew chief took the elevator. He waited quietly by the door to the lot outside the building. Security

seemed to be on alert as they watched the lobby.

 

“One of the guys that went after Granite is in the wind.” Ashcroft pushed through the front door,

watching for any threat. “We’re going to grab him and bring him in.”

 

Puma nodded. Normal humans without training weren’t much of a threat when he got close to them.

 

They walked out to the company car and wheeled out of the lot. Jeff’s phone was on a charger,

Stark waiting on the other end.

 

“He’s still heading along the river.” Stark sounded perplexed. “I don’t see any pickup approaching

for him.”

 

“Maybe he plans to walk out of the District.” Jeff wondered if they had left the exploding man in

the open to draw the authorities after him.

 

That would make his walking along a trap for them as soon as they got close to pick him up.

 

Maybe he should have asked for Holo or Currenta to ride along. They were a lot tougher than him.

 

He put the emergency lights on as he sped through the city. He didn’t want to have a problem with

the Pee Dee for pushing the speed. He didn’t put on the siren because he didn’t want the blare to

announce his presence.

 

“You’re about five blocks away, Jeff.” Stark’s warning made him cut the lights. “He should be on

the right side of the road, in what looks like an orange hoodie.”

 

“Got him.” Jeff didn’t put on the brakes. He wanted to look like any other guy driving around like

normal.

 

He hoped the guy didn’t have any powers. Otherwise, this could be a full fledged battle in the

middle of the city.

 

Jeff rolled by the target and then swerved his car in front of the enemy. The guy reached for

something under his hoodie when he saw what was going on. They weren’t taking him alive.

 

Pointer pushed out of his side of the car. One hand pointed over the roof. An imaginary pistol filled

his hand. He was too late.

 

Puma Sai had leaped from his seat, pulling his signature weapons. He used the blunt knives to beat

on their suspect’s head like a drum. The man went down to a knee, supporting himself with one

hand on the ground. The man in black delivered a foot to the head to finish the fight.

 

“Okay.” Ashcroft came around the back end of the car. “Let’s get this guy trussed up so we can get

him back to the Office.”

 

Puma flipped his catch over and pulled out a tie strip. He looped it around the man’s wrists and

pulled it tight to immobilize his arms. They searched the man and discovered a pistol. Identification

was not present.

 

“It looks like our boy doesn’t have any way to call for help.” Pointer placed the gun in a plastic bag.

They could test fire it and see if someone had committed a crime with it. It would be one more

charge to put against their captive if it came back positive for something.

 

“He’s not a professional fighter either.” The ninja placed the prisoner in the back seat and strapped

him down. “How does he fit in?”

 

“Dumb muscle.” Pointer got behind the wheel. “It means he doesn’t know anything beyond his

immediate mission.”

 

“A crew of guys like this took on Granite?” Puma got in the car. “What were they thinking?”

 

“That they could get away with firing a cannon in town.” Pointer backed up and turned the car to

drive back to headquarters. “Let’s see if we can get the rest of them.”

 

Jeff drove with lights flashing through traffic. People got out of his way as he sped along. He pulled

into his space in the lot. He helped Puma Sai drag the bad guy from the back of the car.

 

“Let’s run a metal detector over him to make sure he doesn’t have any surprises we missed.” Jeff

let the other agent take the weight as he went to the garage. They had a sweeper in a locker next to

the door. He turned it on and brought it back. He ran the detector wand over the prisoner and didn’t

get a beep. “Grab his belt and we’ll put him in the brig while we try to figure out who he is.”

 

Puma Sai took the belt and dropped it in a locker by the door. Jeff replaced the sweeper in the

locker next to it. The guy would have to have a suicide pill or choke on his own tongue if he wanted

to avoid being questioned.

 

The problem was could they make him talk? Having a prisoner was fine, but if they couldn’t get

anything out of him, they were still in the dark about what was going on.

 

They dragged their prisoner into the elevator and rode it up to the Bullpen. They walked him down

to the room they used for holding and dropped him inside. Jeff locked him in, hoping the man didn’t

have some deadly power they needed to compensate for.

 

At least cameras would warn them if he woke and started powering up to escape.

 

It would have to do until Jeff had more information he could use.

 

“Get his prints, Puma. Set up a guard rotation with a couple of the others until we can hand him

off.” Jeff threw a thumb toward the cell. “Maybe Watcher found some more of them while we were

out.”

 

“I’ll get the scanner.” The ninja went to his desk. “If he’s in the system, his prints should come back

for later confirmation of identity.”

 

Jeff nodded. He walked back to the monitor room. Watcher seemed to be searching the city

with his spies one block at a time.

 

“The rest of the group took cover.” Watcher indicated a small square at the bottom of the screen.

Granite was a visible blot on it. “I’m hoping one of them will show himself so we can grab him.

Two of them might give us more information.”

 

“Puma is printing our prisoner and setting up a guard detail.” Jeff frowned at the screen. “We have

no clue if he has powers or not. Puma took him down before he could do anything to stop us.”

 

“Replacement can guard him when he gets back.” Watcher flipped open his visor. “I don’t think this

is getting us anywhere.”

 

“I guess we have to go with the questioning.” Jeff smiled. “Let’s see if we can get something out

of that.”

 

“I’ll put some of my guys to look down on the building and the surrounding area.” Watcher flipped

down his visor. “Maybe that will give us a head’s up if they try to storm the building to get their

guy back.”

 

Jeff led the way down to the cell. The Beatnik and Currenta were on deck at the door. Their guy

wasn’t going anywhere unless he could breathe water.

 

“The cat is printing him now.” Currenta stepped out of the way, her liquid body shimmering under

the lights.

 

Jeff and Watcher stepped in the cell. Puma Sai had his scanner in hand, watching the prisoner as

the fingerprints was compared to those in the AFIS database. It came back with a match. He held

up the scanner. A picture of their prisoner was on the screen.

 

“Call down and get a warrant for his address.” Jeff grinned like a shark. “Toss it.”

 

Puma Sai nodded as he left the room. He would have to call a prosecutor, then get a judge, write

up the warrant application and wait for it to come in so he could search the address.

 

On the other hand, the guy had used a cannon in the middle of Washington. Maybe he could get

priority before he started searching the guy’s house.

[csyphrett]

Re: The Magistracy: School Fears

 

6

Jeff and Aaron waited for their prisoner to wake up. The shooter was not surprised by the delay.

Puma Sai was an efficient fighter who could put down normal opponents in a matter of seconds.

 

The man in question put his head in the cell. Green eyes glowed slightly under the lights.

 

“We got a warrant. One of our attorneys expressed our paperwork.”

 

“Take Holo and Triple with you.” Jeff wasn’t letting any of his people go off alone after their

attacks. “Watch your back.”

 

“I’ll let you know what I find.” Puma Sai withdrew from the room.

 

Aaron placed one of his flying cameras on watch. He directed it to follow Puma as he executed the

warrant. If there was trouble, he could send backup to help the search team out.

 

“Half of our teams are away from the building.” Jeff drew up a chair. “Not liking that at all.”

 

“I know.” Aaron placed the view of Puma and the others in a bottom quarter of his vision.

 

The Beatnik opened the door. His long face drooped in a frown. He handed over a file before

leaving.

 

“Looks like he’s not happy about not being on the search team.” Aaron indicated the gorilloid with

his thumb.

 

“He’s on your team.” Jeff flipped through the file. Nothing in it indicated why their guest would

try to shoot one of the squad with a cannon. Everything looked like the background of a model

citizen who had been in the service and mustered out.

 

Who was this guy?

 

Jeff reached across the table. He slapped the prisoner on the head. It was time to get some answers.

 

The man sat up with blinking eyes. He turned a dull gaze on the two agents. He looked down at the

cuffs chained to the table to keep his hands from moving.

 

“How’s it going, Mr. Willowitz?” Jeff pushed the file to one side. It didn’t have the answers he

needed. “Do you know it’s illegal to fire a cannon in the city limits?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Willowitz tried to lean to the end of his chains.

 

“I find that odd.” Jeff did lean back. “You were seen in the vicinity, you fled the scene, we bagged

you. Who do you work for?”

 

“I have a little gardening thing.” The prisoner hid behind his dull eyes. “I don’t know what you’re

talking about.”

 

“Really?” Pointer smiled. “Attempted murder of a federal agent is a lot of years. You can work on

your flowers behind bars. I’m willing to cut you a deal for information.”

 

“I can’t tell you what I don’t know.” Willowitz shook his head. “You got the wrong man.”

 

“I don’t think so.” Jeff leaned forward. “You have a clean record. Why join a bunch of loons?”

 

“I didn’t join anybody.” The gardener spread his hands as much as he could. “I was taking a walk

when you and the guy in the mask fell on me. This other stuff doesn’t have a thing to do with me.”

 

“Wait here.” Pointer got up. He glared at the mask displayed to deflect him. He held the door open

for Watcher so they could step outside in the hall. He closed the door.

 

“He’s stalling us.” Watcher did a sweep around the Office. Nothing looked out of place. “He’s

definitely one of the guys that shot at Granite.”

 

“What’s the game plan?” Jeff rubbed his face. “The only thing I can see is an assault on the Office.

Would they do it?”

 

“Six of our members are away from the place.” Watcher didn’t comment that they were the most

powerful members for the most part. “If they are going to do it, it would have to be soon.”

 

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Jeff reached for the door handle. “Maybe that’s what he’s waiting for.

I think we need to get him out of here so we can get ready for their next move.”

 

“Turn him over to Marshals?” Watcher liked that plan. They could question him later when they

were sure what they were looking for, and not casting around in the dark.

 

“Yeah.” Jeff pushed the door open. “Change of plans, Willowitz. We’re shipping you to the local

hoosegow until further notice.”

 

“That’s nice.” The prisoner smiled. “At least a jail has windows.”

 

“Glad you think that way.” Pointer produced a handcuff key. “We’ll be in touch about your

charges.”

 

“I’ll be in touch with my lawyer.” Willowitz nodded. “I plan to sue you out of business.”

 

“Good luck with that.” Jeff went to undo one of the handcuffs.

 

“Pointer.” Watcher held up his hand. “Something’s wrong.”

 

Jeff paused. He stepped back. He put the key away. A bad feeling nudged at him.

 

“I blew that, didn’t I?” Willowitz grinned from ear to ear. “Father won’t like that. I was trying to

be so quiet about things. What gave me away?”

 

“Body temperature.” Watcher aimed his laser at the prisoner. “What are you doing?”

 

“Busting out, food.” The chained suspect began to warp in front of them. His skin bulged as if

something was pushing out from inside his body.

 

Pointer pointed a hand. Holes appeared in the prisoner as he sat chained to his table. Ashcroft didn’t

know what was going on, but his preference agreed with experience. When in doubt, throw lead.

 

Willowitz jerked in his chair as his body was held in place by the chains through the hoop in the

table top. The firepower didn’t stop the shifting of the man’s flash and blood.

 

“I think he’s bulletproof.” Watcher fired his laser. “Let’s see if he can burn.”

 

The beam popped part of the prisoner like a bubble. The rest continued to move on its own.

 

“We need the Saint.” Jeff opened the door. He put more holes in the shifting body. “Let him do his

thing.”

 

Watcher fired his laser as he passed through the open door. The smell of burning flesh was blocked

by his visor to his relief.

 

Tentacles emerged from the heap in the chair. They threw the table away. The furniture dragged

pieces of flesh with it.

 

An explosion rocked the building.

 

“What now?” Jeff backed up and pulled the door closed.

 

He threw the bolt on the door before rushing to the Bullpen. Watcher had an outside view of the

building loaded on a monitor. Some of the cars in the lot had been caught in explosions.

 

Of course it would be the guy who had went after the Saint.

 

Confirmation of an organization was great. Shutting them down was better as far as he was

concerned.

 

Now how did he go about doing that?

 

Something crashed against the cell door from within. Handcuffs didn’t seem to hold things without

wrists that well.

 

Watcher appeared with the Saint in tow. They paused at the cell door as Jeff joined them. The

guards downstairs seemed to be holding off the exploding men for the moment. They needed to do

something about Wonderful Willowitz.

 

“Ready?” Jeff reached for the bolt.

 

“Keep him busy and we’ll see if my talents will work.” The Saint raised his hands. They glowed

slightly, burning the air.

 

“Got it.” Jeff pulled the bolt and pushed the door open.

 

Jeff blasted away at the mass trying to rush the door. He noted the empty sack that used to be a

human being as he walked his shots through the swaying limbs.

 

Watcher stood at his shoulder. Red light burned his target as his laser moved left to right. The

severed limbs grew from the parts and reached for the central part to activate themselves again.

 

“We can’t beat this with our powers.” Jeff sent another salvo into the tentacle monsters.

 

The Saint concentrated as he grabbed a tentacle with his hands. Fire roared into the whipping limb.

A shimmering appeared in the air above the creature.

 

“The real Willowitz, I presume.” The Saint concentrated on making the shimmer into a better

representation of the tentacle monster’s other face.

 

“Better hurry.” Jeff kept up the pace, blazing away with both hands. Imaginary bullets ripped at the

thing as he tried to avoid being touched by the flailing limbs.

 

“We have hostiles converging on the building.” Watcher fired his laser. Even cauterizing the limbs

he cut seemed to do very little to slow the expanding beast down.

 

“Go ahead.” Jeff stepped in front of the Saint. “We’ll handle this.”

 

Watcher retreated from the holding room. He called the others with his helmet and started working

on the defense of the building.

 

“Give me one more second, Jeff.” The Saint closed his eyes. “The line is right there.”

 

His fingers punched through the glowing image floating over the tentacle he had grabbed. He

yanked with metaphysical strength. Something snapped in the air. It washed over them in the smell

of burned flesh and sea water.

 

The image descended into the wounded thing. The tentacles shriveled under the impact, burning

away. The parts that were regenerating stopped, crinkling apart. A skeleton emerged from the

dissolution.

 

“I’m so sorry.” The exorcist muttered something Jeff couldn’t catch.

 

“What did you do?” Pointer glared at the mess on the floor, the shredded skin hanging from the

handcuffs, and the holes in the walls.

 

“He was drawing power from somewhere else.” The Saint made a gesture to convey some sort of

blessing over the remains. “I pulled the connection loose.”

 

“And it killed him.” Jeff thought about the implications and shook his head. A prisoner had died

and there would be a mountain of paperwork to fill out. It didn’t matter if the guy had turned into

an octopus.

 

“We’ll deal with this later.” An explosion notified them the building was still under attack. “Let’s

see what we can do about his friends.”

 

Jeff locked the room. Crime scene people would have to gather the remains later. They would

want to make sure no one had tampered with the death room while everyone was busy.

 

Watcher stood in the middle of the Bullpen giving orders. He had several screens filled with footage

from the cameras pointing outside.

 

“Pointer, I need you down at the back doors.” He seemed tense. “We have a firestarter and that

explosion man in the lot. I need you to put them down.”

 

“No problems.” Jeff headed for the emergency stairs. He was glad to shoot someone.

 

“Saint, I need you to help Fortress in the lobby.” Watcher showed him the situation on a monitor.

 

“I think I can handle it.” The Saint drew his coat around him. He started for the front stairs to

descend to the lobby.

[csyphrett]

Re: The Magistracy: School Fears

 

7

 

Jeff made a checklist of the members of the School as he jumped down the last few stairs. Poster

Girl, Replacement, and Granite were still out at the cannon crime scene. If Watcher called them,

they could be back in seconds. Puma Sai, Triple, and Holo were out with the police to serve the

warrant on Willowitz’s domicile. They could also be called back in seconds. He doubted they had

driven far enough away they couldn’t hear the explosions in the parking lot from the street.

 

That left him with the Saint, Watcher, Fortress, Currenta, and the Beatnik. He found Currenta and

Beatnik at the garage door leading out to the lot at the back of the Office. Fortress should be in the

front.

 

“We’re being jammed, Pointer.” Beatnik gestured to the earpiece inserted in his ear.

 

“Figures.” Jeff took a moment to assess what he wanted to do to their problem.

 

Most of the lot had been turned into Craterville. The guardhouse and fence were gone. Hopefully

security had gotten clear. One guy stood near the entrance of the lot, looking at the building. He

appeared to have magma for skin. No exploding joggers present at the moment.

 

“Any idea what the guy can do?” Pointer wanted to take a shot to see if he could clear the lone

enemy off the field.

 

“He sucked in all the flames from the explosions.” Beatnik waved at the bombed cars. “We think

he is using it to power up something.”

 

“This is what we do.” Pointer pointed at the heat man. “Currenta and I will distract this guy. You

see if you can circle around and find the source of Bombermen and shut them off. Then we circle

around and help Fortress and Saint.”

 

“I can do that.” Beatnik flexed his long arms. “Give me some cover in case he can throw flames as

well as suck them.”

 

“We got that down pat.” Pointer pulled the trigger on his imaginary weapon. The invisible bullet

hit, made a pockmark that slowly filled in. “This might be trickier than I thought.”

 

He walked out of the entrance. The air puffed as slugs cut through the menace. It didn’t seem to

affect him.

 

“Why do all these guys have to be bulletproof?,” the shooter asked himself as he kept up the rapid

fire.

 

Currenta followed. Bolts of water from her hands caused steam when they hit the mark. That made

the guy take notice.

 

She advanced to Pointer’s right, almost transparent as she flung more of the water bolts across the

lot.

 

Jeff hoped this wasn’t a mistake. They were barely scratching the heat guy. What was he waiting

for?

 

Eight men ran through the hole in the fence where the gatehouse used to be. They aimed for the two

agents.

 

Bullets and water slammed against them before they passed the boiling man. They exploded in a

line of thrown asphalt on impact.

 

“I need more water, Pointer.” Currenta caused more steam to billow out over the battlefield.

“Maybe that will make him sit up and notice me.”

 

Pointer looked around. He didn’t see any source of water he could use. He looked back at the

building. Maybe he could get water from there if he could figure out how to get it out in the lot.

 

Maybe all he needed was one shot.

 

He took aim at the wall and fired. The bricks moved out of the way in a spray of baked clay. The

pipes behind the wall ruptured. Water sprayed from the hole.

 

Jeff grimaced. He didn’t know if that was enough. How much water did his squad member need?

 

“Let me see what I can do.” She flowed to the spray, sucking the water into her skin.

 

Heat guy stepped out of the steam cloud. Dimples covered his visible skin from the cooling water

from the bolts. He looked impassive to Jeff.

 

He was glowing from his inner burning.

 

That can’t be good. Maybe he was a super bomb. Was he big enough to take down the whole

building?

 

Jeff didn’t want to find out what happened if heat guy released any of the energy he had hoarded

from the blown up cars.

 

He poured bullets into the enemy. The blasts just passed through the target.

 

“The bomber and one enemy are down.” Beatnik reported from Jeff’s radio. “I have them in a van

down the street from the Office.”

 

“Good.” They didn’t have to worry about more running bombs while they were trying to take down

the lava man.

 

The glowing man closed his eyes. His skin expanded against his clothes. He produced a line of fire

that reached for the Office. The blast seemed to channel from his whole body.

 

Jeff jumped to one side. Part of his arm blistered as he rolled clear of the oncoming wall of death.

He fired with the other hand, trying to stop the beam at the source.

 

He groaned at the lack of results.

 

Looks like he had lost the building and the rest of the team inside. He hoped he would be able to

get his pick of replacements.

 

Currenta caught the beam in a blast of steam. That blunted the beam into something that scorched

the brick face but didn’t break through. She cried at the pain of evaporation.

 

Jeff forced himself to his feet. How could he stop this? There had to be something he could use

against the burning beam of destruction.

 

Too bad he didn’t have a fire extinguisher.

 

Why did these new guys have to be bulletproof? It was almost like they were prepared for dealing

with the School. Maybe they had been.

 

Currenta drew on the water from the pipes. She grew in height, trying to hold off the beam from

burning through the Office like a hot knife.

 

Jeff forced away the pain in his arm as he tried to think. He needed something to change the

battlefield to his advantage. He needed something good against flames.

 

The thought of an extinguisher came to mind. There should be one in the garage somewhere. That

might be enough to change things around. He just had to get there without being killed.

 

Maybe not.

 

He had someone on the loose that could get the extinguisher for him.

 

“Beatnik, can you leave the prisoners?” Jeff put slugs into the heat man. He needed to keep the guy

busy. “I need you to get an extinguisher for me.”

 

“Got it.” The gorilloid sounded cheerful for once.

 

At least Currenta was keeping the guy in check. He couldn’t force his way pass her, but she

couldn’t cool him off as long as she had to form a living wall to protect the building. Even throwing

a blast of water would hurt her chances.

 

“I got it.” Beatnik reported from his radio.

 

“Throw it about five hundred yards straight ahead from the door.” Jeff hoped this worked. He

doubted Saint would be able to get close for another exorcism with this guy.

 

A red canister flew through the steam cloud. It described a perfect arc through the air. It started

down toward the heat guy in what looked like slow motion to Jeff. He took aim and fired. The

container flew apart in a cloud of white foam. It wrapped around the burner, boiling in the stream

of flame.

 

The heat guy froze as the cloud dissipated. He cracked from the sudden change of temperature. He

looked down at his hands as his power flickered out.

 

“You’re done.” Jeff fired one more time. The slug hit dead center. Cracks ran from the impact point.

The attacker fell into a pile of rubble.

 

“You’re done?” Currenta absorbed water to repair the damage she had sustained while protecting

the Office.

 

“Get our prisoners while I help Fortress and The Saint in the front.” Jeff pulled off his jacket and

rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. The blisters on his arm had popped. “Maybe one of these guys will

know who’s in charge and where we need to go to bust them.”

 

“On it.” Beatnik rushed across the battlefield, using his knuckles to swing his body forward.

 

“That looks like a bad burn.” Currenta shimmered against the air.

 

“I had worse.” Jeff draped his jacket over his shoulder as he started around the building.

 

Currenta watched him go for a minute before pouring herself after Beatnik.

[csyphrett]

Re: The Magistracy: School Fears

 

8

 

Paul Priest jogged to the door to the lobby. He peered out before he did anything reckless. He was

here to help, not catch a stray bullet, or the projectile du jour.

 

“Get him out of the way.” Fortress handed a wounded guard off to his friends. “I told him to stay

back.”

 

Paul entered the lobby. He grabbed the guard. Fire flickered across his hand as he pulled the man

to safety. A long thorn fell out of a wound in the man’s side. It burned away in the air.

 

“How can I help, Fortress?” He and the other guards placed the wounded man behind a column.

Thorns stuck out of the concrete.

 

“We got this thing spraying pointy things in here at us.” Fortress stood next to the door. “It looks

bulletproof so far. I don’t have anything I can use to block the thorns so I can go out there and

stomp it. Small arms fire has been driving it back, but we’re going to run out of bullets if it wants

to get serious.”

 

“It’s probably trying to hold us in here so we can’t leave the building.” The Saint went to the solid

wall on the other side of the glass doors. He noted that the rails that should fallen down to protect

the frontage had not come down. He chanced a glance and saw that three of the daggers were

holding the gate up on his side of the lobby. “Probably hoping the others can’t stop his friends in

the lot.”

 

“If I had some way I could touch him, this would be over.” Fortress had the ability to grow, but it

didn’t make her skin armored against blades.

 

“He’s just inside where the gate would fall if we could knock it out.” The Saint took cover as

another wave of darts sliced through the lobby. “Do you think you could knock the gate over if it

was down?”

 

“Yeah.” Fortress judged the room in the lobby. “I could do it with a running start.”

 

“All right, we need to pull the thorns out of the wall above us.” The Saint pointed above him.

“When it drops, you’ll have to knock it over on him.”

 

“Can do.” Fortress glanced at the human porcupine before ducking out far enough to see the

embedded spikes. She ducked back before a shower of the daggers. “I’ll need a distraction.”

 

“I’ll do it.” The Saint sidled around to where the guards worked on their colleague. The man would

need surgery in a rush. “Let me borrow one of your weapons.”

 

One of the guards handed over a pistol, and spare magazines. He went back to trying to use his shirt

as a pressure cover for the fallen man’s wound.

 

Paul took the weapon and spare ammunition. If this didn’t work out, he wouldn’t need the extra

bullets. He would have too many holes in his own body for that.

 

He went to the door, checking the weapon. The magazine was half-full. He replaced it with a fresh

one. He kept the other two in hand in case he had a chance to reload.

 

He hoped he would have a chance to reload.

 

“Soon as I start shooting, pull the spikes.” Paul took a deep breath.

 

“I don’t think Pointer is going to like you stealing his shtick.” Fortress concentrated on the moves

she had to make. She wanted it to work out in her mind before she tried it for real.

 

“I’m using his favorite solution.” The Saint stepped from cover and advanced out of the lobby onto

open ground. There were benches to the right or left, but they weren’t better than a temporary blind

spot. He opened fire with the pistol as he went. He tried for head shots since he wanted to cause a

distraction and blind the enemy to what his colleague was doing.

 

The pistol snapped empty. He dropped the magazine as he threw himself behind a bench opposite

of where Fortress should be moving behind him. A spray of daggers zipped by overhead as he

reloaded.

 

The gate clanged down behind Paul. He pulled the slide back to work the hammer as he thought of

his next move. His plan had seemed less dangerous when he was just thinking about it and not

doing it.

 

Paul took aim over the bench and fired with both hands stabilizing the pistol as he had been taught.

He needed to keep the attention on him. He didn’t want Fortress to be noticed and the plan foiled

before he ran out of bullets.

 

He dropped down behind the bench when he had fired the pistol empty again. He couldn’t tell how

many of his bullets had hit dead center, but felt that most had. The target refused to go down.

 

He wondered how Fortress was going to hurt him when bullets didn’t.

 

The metal grill ripped from its tracks. It had been designed for being able to be pushed down in the

case of an emergency. Now the rapidly expanding Fortress had struck it as she grew to her full

height. It fell over on the nameless enemy, forcing him to catch it with his body and try to stop it

from crushing him. Then Fortress crashed on top of the grate.

 

Paul sat up and switched the empty magazine for the half-full one. He might need it in a minute.

 

Spikes appeared in the grill as the enemy tried to use his ability. The narrowness of the bars

kept the points from passing through to pierce Fortress’s foot. She stepped off before he got one

through.

 

Paul summoned his internal light and walked over to where the guy was trying to shove the gate

off. He was having some trouble with the weight of the thing.

 

The Saint grabbed a hand. Fire flashed across his hand. Glowing lines danced in the air. Then the

lines snapped and burned away. The porcupine groaned with the ceasing of his protection.

 

“It looks like we have someone else to talk to about our problem.” Paul straightened. He looked

around. He felt a chill in the air, but didn’t see a cause.

 

“I don’t see anyone else around.” Fortress shaded her eyes with a giant hand.

 

“What about the others?” Paul picked up the empty magazines. He needed to return them to their

owner.

 

Fortress looked over the roof of the Office. She smiled slightly. It looked like their guys had won.

She spotted Pointer walking down the side of the building.

 

“It looks like they kicked butt.” She called down. “Pointer is on the way.”

 

“Does he look angry?” Paul put the borrowed tools in his coat.

 

“Doesn’t he always?” Fortress reached down and picked up the gate. She put it aside. She shrank

down and flipped their prisoner over. She pulled a wallet out of his pants and dropped it on the

ground. She used his belt to tie his hands behind his back.

 

They had devised a costume that changed size when she did, but they couldn’t do it for handcuffs,

or weapons.

 

Paul picked up the wallet and flipped it open. He noted the name on the license. The address was

for Newport News, down along the coast of Virginia. It looked like the enemy had recruited locals

for this rampage.

 

Pointer came around the corner. He glared at the damage. Fortress was right. He did always look

angry.

 

“Casualties?” Pointer produced a pair of handcuffs from his belt. He closed the bracelets around

the attempted murderer’s wrists.

 

“We have a man down.” Fortress indicated the lobby. “He was stabbed with one of those flying

daggers.”

 

“We’ll get Replacement to get him to the hospital.” Pointer looked at the sky. “He should be on

the way back.”

 

“Paul Durdusky is the name of our prisoner.” Paul Priest handed over the wallet. “His home address

is in Newport News.”

 

“Beatnik took out the guy who blew up your car, and another guy.” Pointer pulled out his phone.

He scanned the street. He felt like he was being watched. “Can I get the number for the Newport

News Police Department?”

 

Replacement dropped out of the sky. He paused at the destruction.

 

“We have a man down in the lobby, Replacement.” Paul gestured for him to follow. “We need a

medevac.”

 

“Newport News Police Department?” Pointer asked for a detail to sit on his prisoner’s house until

they could get a warrant and search it.

 

Paul handed the empty weapon and magazines back to their owner. He examined the wound in the

guard’s side. The others had scratches but nothing serious. At least the thorns didn’t seem

poisonous.

 

Replacement picked up the guard in his arms. His strength made the body as light as a feather. He

headed into the air.

 

Paul pulled out his phone and called the hospital. He gave the nurse the information she needed

to get things rolling. The guard might be crippled by the stabbing.

 

“We might as well move somewhere else.” Pointer stood at the broken window and doors. “It’ll

take a miracle to fix this.”

 

“I need to look at the other two prisoners.” Paul used a water fountain to wash the blood off his

hands. “These people so far don’t seem to be naturally powered.”

 

“Beatnik and Currenta are bringing them in.” The shooter looked down at his scalded arm. Pus

leaked from it. “We can question them and hopefully get some answers.”

 

“This has the stink of a cult about it, Pointer.” Paul shook his head at the burn. “I have some burn

creme upstairs in my cubicle. You should go to the hospital in my opinion.”

 

“I will when the job is done.” Jeff went into the public bathroom. He came back with a paper towel

pressed to the running wound. “Take him upstairs, Fortress.”

 

The size changer nodded as she headed up the stairs with her burden over her shoulder.

 

“Go ahead and check the other two when they are brought in.” Pointer nodded at his squad member.

“I don’t want that one guy blowing up his holding cell.”

 

“Got it.” Paul headed for the stairs after Fortress. He ignored all the thorns in the walls as he entered

the stairwell. He pulled himself up the staircase.

 

He entered the Bullpen, and spotted Beatnik and Currenta dumping their prisoner in a holding

room. He walked over. Fortress stood in front of the room where she had placed the porcupine.

 

“Let me take a look at our prisoners.” Paul opened the door. “Now that we have them, Jeff wants

to hang on to them.”

 

“Caught them at the curb.” Beatnik’s face was long on disdain. “They are not frontline fighters.”

 

“Might be channels of evil.” Paul raised his hand. Fire glowed in the air. He touched the men.

A cloud of light danced until it dispersed with the sound of snapping. “Used to be a channel of

evil.”

 

“They came right at the building.” Currenta shimmered as they exited the holding cell. “It was

almost like this place was the target.”

 

“It is our center of operations.” Beatnik hopped over to his desk. “It is natural they would go for

us here.”

 

“And they are the face of the enemy.” Paul went to his own desk. “We haven’t seen the real enemy

yet.”

[csyphrett]

Re: The Magistracy: School Fears

 

9

Laurence Elbe glared at the battlefield from across the street. The flow of impressions told him all

he needed to know. Father’s other children had all fallen, and been cut off from his touch. None of

the enemy had been killed in the assault.

 

He spotted a familiar female figure dropping from the sky with a rock with arms and legs. He

frowned at his companion.

 

“You were supposed to kill her last night.” He hid his fury behind his bland face. “What is she

doing still alive?”

 

“I didn’t feel like killing her when I could play with her every night.” The other man smiled, the

pock marks on his lean face shifting as the skin moved. “She has a body like you wouldn’t believe.”

 

Laurence closed his eyes for a second. She was supposed to be killed in her home to provide

another distraction to lead the rest of her allies away from their headquarters. His supposed

underling had indulged himself instead of doing the job.

 

Father’s spokesmen struck with the edge of his open hand. He didn’t want to attract attention from

the arriving authorities, but his anger wouldn’t let this pass. The other man’s nose broke on impact,

causing him to jerk back. Blood poured down his face as his hands went up.

 

“You screwed up the plan, Strickler.” Laurence shook his head. “You helped your brothers be

captured or killed with your stupidity. I don’t see why I should let you live at this point.”

 

“You can’t kill me.” Strickler knew that was the wrong words. Of course he could be killed right

there on the street. The spokesman had absolute power from their master. If the seer wanted to kill

him, he could do it and say anything he wanted as to why.

 

“Yes, I can.” Laurence buried his anger. He still needed his only assassin unless he wanted to put

together another team. “But I won’t if you can do the task I am about to give you.”

 

“What?” Strickler wiped his face with his hand.

 

“That is your target.” Laurence pointed across the street. “The man with the hurt arm. He leads the

forces against us. He has to go. Do it tonight.”

 

“Okay.” The assassin exercised his power. He locked on to the mind of his target. He felt the

number of the synapses read off in his memory. Anytime he wanted, he could kill the man in his

sleep.

 

“Don’t fool around with him.” Laurence turned and walked away. His mind jumped to future plans.

He had to be ready to capitalize on Strickler’s success.

 

If Strickler didn’t succeed, he had to be ready to fall back to try again.

 

He had some leeway, but that would vanish if he didn’t produce results. If the project was more

complete, he would be more assured of his continued living.

 

He restrained himself from turning around and beating Strickler to death. The man had sabotaged

the plan to be a sadist.

 

He hoped Father would understand the failure. Strickler might have caused the operation to fail

with his psychopathic urges. He didn’t see how this could be considered a victory.

 

Perhaps Father would look at it differently than he did. He existed outside of time and space. Surely

he could be patient long enough for his sons to come up with a different plan.

 

At the very least, perhaps he would have permission to kill Strickler whether he succeeded or not.

It would be a great pleasure to make sure he couldn’t ruin any more enterprises.

 

Laurence headed for his hotel. At least none of his brothers could identify him. They all knew him

as Able. They knew nothing about his life and the other projects he carried out to welcome Father

home.

 

He went to his room and closed the curtains to block out the light. He needed to talk to Father. He

might as well be comfortable while he waited.

 

He closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind. Father would call him when he could.

 

Laurence wasn’t sure what the rules were for the contact. He had a fear that a long conversation

trying to figure those rules out would reduce his mind to silly putty.

 

A calm washed over him. The hotel room faded away. Strickler was following his orders, or not.

It was out of his hands now.

 

Hopefully the assassin would kill the leader of the enemy. That would slow them down enough for

him to come up with a second attack.

 

He doubted the shooter would be able to overcome Strickler on Strickler’s homeground. Dreams

were his ability, and he knew how to use them to his advantage.

 

“Hello, Laurence.” The voice filled his mind with concepts he pushed away before he shut down.

“How goes it?”

 

“We failed, Father.” The seer hoped stating the facts was better than making excuses. “The enemy

is intact despite the damage done to their base of operations.”

 

“Let me see your memories.” Father reached in as gently as he could and filed through his minion’s

mind. A general hum accompanied his searching. “Strickler failed his objective?”

 

“He didn’t kill his target.” Laurence didn’t have shoulders to shrug in his mind. “He apparently

tortured her and let her live instead.”

 

“Do you think he will do the same with this new target?” The voice sounded lighter in tone.

 

“It’s a man.” The seer paused. “I don’t know. I may have to kill him if he doesn’t succeed.”

 

“You may have to kill him if he does.” Father retreated from contact. “Be careful. My plans are

coming to fruition. Anything may wreck them at this stage.”

 

Laurence snapped to the real world. He looked up from where he sat in the hotel chair. The space

beyond his curtains was dark. He had been waiting for an answer for a long time. He stretched

before he got to his feet.

 

He needed to get something to eat. Then he would have to make some calls. Strickler would call

when he succeeded. He could only use his power when his target was asleep. It might be hours

before he could act on his orders.

 

He might not even act on his orders. He was a vicious dog that bit any he set his sights on. He might

test Laurence to see what the spokesman would do. He might try to kill his chief instead of

following his orders.

 

The seer wondered how he could survive an assault on his mind in a dream. He felt like a sitting

duck. Father might be right. He might have to kill Strickler to make sure that he couldn’t betray the

cause.

 

It might be the best thing for everyone concerned.

 

Laurence left the hotel and found a pizza place down the street. He ordered a bowl of manicotti

and a salad for dinner. Dealing with the aftereffects of his call would have to take precedence to his

other worries.

 

Reaching across the extradimensional gulf made him a little hungry. He didn’t have an explanation,

but thought it was because he was meditating for hours for that few minutes of real talk. When it

was over, his body said notice me.

 

He ate silently. His mind wanted to circle around what happened if the point man was killed by

his brother. He put that aside. He had to make sure New York was on schedule. Then he had to

make more excuses for why he wasn’t in the city. Then he could check on Strickler if he was really

worried about the man.

 

He couldn’t oversee the assassination himself. He didn’t have a means to do that. He reluctantly

decided he would have to wait for news.

 

He hoped Strickler did what he was told.

 

Laurence paid the bill and left a small tip. He pulled out his phone as he left. He started making

calls as he walked back to his hotel.

 

The tower was ahead of schedule. Paperwork would need his signature as soon as the upper floors

went into service. It would be done in a few months according to his man on the site.

 

One of Father’s sons had a building touch to him. He was helping behind the scenes.

 

Laurence checked in with his family and friends to let them know he would be gone for a few more

days. He didn’t want them to worry. They would call and bother him when he needed to concentrate

on what he was doing in Washington.

 

He headed back to his room. He needed to keep on top of things. He might need an advance

warning if Strickler failed.

 

He might need one if the assassin succeeded.

 

Laurence turned on his laptop and the television. He put the channel on the local twenty four hour

news station. Maybe he could learn something in the aftermath of the attack he had ordered.

 

He settled in to see what the next few hours would bring him.

[csyphrett]

Re: The Magistracy: School Fears

 

10

 

Mark Strickler sat in his hotel room. The night was coming on. All he had to do was fall asleep.

That was the hardest thing for him to do. He had one obstacle to the full use of his talent. He

had insomnia.

 

Strickler was one of those people who only slept when they ran out of energy and couldn’t do

anything else, and he had spent the night in the mind of that beautiful agent’s mind. The things he

had done had been the stuff of a waking woman’s worst fear.

 

It had left him in the position that he didn’t feel tired. And that rendered his ability useless to him.

 

He decided to turn the radio on. He changed the channel until he found some sports channel. He

lay on his bed and listened to the drone. He didn’t care about sports so the recitation of statistics

meant nothing to him. He closed his eyes and waited, the sound of talking slowly diminishing

to a gentle buzz.

 

He slipped out of his body as he drifted off. He looked at the floating combinations in the air as he

looked for the two agents. He would visit the woman first, then the man. It would be a warm up for

the main event. He didn’t see her numbers anymore. That had only happened when the dreamer died

between visits. He doubted that had happened in the hours he had been waiting in his room. He

didn’t have time to figure it out at the moment. He still had to kill the man.

 

He grabbed the numbers from the air. The combination slipped into a door that he pushed out of

his way. He entered the mind of his victim.

 

He found the man’s dream image standing on a rampart. He watched the blurry land under the wall.

He appeared to be waiting for someone like the dream killer.

 

Strickler grabbed the mind and slung it through the floor of the tower. He wanted a dungeon so he

could have fun with his assignment. He followed, wanting chains to bind his prisoner. A brazier of

coal and tools caught fire as he descended to the cell. This agent would experience pain and misery

until his heart gave out in the real world and he died.

 

That would take as long as Strickler wanted it to. Dream time could be years inside, seconds

outside. And he had the time and skill to make it last as long as he wanted.

 

He picked up an iron. The tip was red hot. He pressed it against the side of his prisoner as a wake

up call. The man clenched his teeth but didn’t scream.

 

How long would that last?

 

“How’s it going?” Strickler smiled. He knew his own dream persona looked far more formidable

because he had made it that way. “I’m here to make the next few eternities a nightmare and a

session in pain.”

 

“I don’t have nightmares.” The man smiled. “I shoot them.”

 

Guns appeared in the agent’s hands. He blasted away the manacles around his wrists so he could

pull his arms down and start shooting at Strickler. The assassin threw the brazier in front of the

bullets. It exploded in a spray of fire and coal as he ran for the door.

 

The assassin threw open the door and fell through. He called for a change of scene as he ran down

the impossibly long corridor. The door blasted out of the frame behind him. His intended victim

started shooting as soon as he stepped in the hall behind his attacker. He had grabbed a black suit

from somewhere as he escaped the torture chamber.

 

Strickler produced a blade and let his mind work on his defense, slowing the bullets down and

slicing them away with the weapon. He had intended to make the man suffer. A fair fight was the

last thing he wanted. He backed up from the continuous booming chasing him. Snap went the blade

as his arm swung in a pattern to defend his body.

 

He found a cross corridor and ducked down it. That led him out on a field of green. The sky was

a vague gray and high. He had time to come up with a plan to get things back under control.

 

A giant in black stepped into view. It pointed a handgun the size of an artillery piece at the green

lawn. A bullet ten times the size of the assassin roared down at him. He dove away as grass and

dirt washed him into a city of pedestrians.

 

Strickler got to his feet, knocking a man out of his way. He paused at what the man had for a face.

He ran.

 

He was on a street full of people with shooting targets for faces, and silhouettes over their clothes.

He didn’t have to look down to see his clothes had changed to match the personas moving around

him.

 

A woman pushing a baby carriage fell over the handles, tipping the buggy up before she fell

completely to the ground. Her head had vaporized as he passed.

 

He glanced over his shoulder. The gunman was coming down the street. His weapons blasted the

people targets out of the way as he ran forward. The crowd broke away in mindless reaction. Some

ran after the assassin, but he was exposed and knew it.

 

Strickler ran into a store. He ignored the targets on the windows, and the door itself. He needed a

few moments to change the scene. The glass inset in the door exploded as he passed it.

 

He opened the door to the dressing room and pulled out a minigun. He locked a shield in front of

the breach so he could shoot without worrying about return fire. He charged the gun with a pull of

the side handle. The weapon’s barrels spun as he readied to spring his trap.

 

What good were handguns against a baby like what he had?

 

The target stepped in front of the door. Strickler pushed the button on his minigun. He had wanted

to prolong the suffering, but valued survival over inflicting mental anguish. The spinning muzzles

let loose a stream of bullets.

 

The gunman fired his pistols. The bullets collided in midair. A cloud of smoke filled the air between

them over the deafening roars and booms.

 

Strickler didn’t dare take his thumb off the button. His enemy was too dangerous to let have a clear

shot.

 

The front of the store fell apart under the pounding he was giving it from the bullets that weren’t

shot away. It collapsed outward from the sawing of dream lead flying.

 

The minigun exploded. The impact threw him away. He crawled into the dressing room. He glanced

at one of the bent barrels before he shot the door. It had a bullet sticking out of it. He slammed the

door shut and stepped out in a western town.

 

The gunman stepped out in the dusty street. He tossed a gunbelt with a pistol in the holster down

the street. It landed at the assassin’s feet.

 

Strickler bent down and picked it up. He moved slowly to stall for time.

 

“You can put it on and we can settle this right now.” The gunman hooked his thumbs into the

gunbelt he wore. “Or I shoot you in the back while you try to run away.”

 

“A showdown at high noon?” Strickler strapped on the belt. He thumbed off the restraint on his

pistol. “When?”

 

“When the clock strikes.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder. A wooden tower appeared as soon

as he gestured. “Then we draw.”

 

“All right.” Strickler had command of the field. His mastery of dreaming gave him any type of edge

he could want. He preferred to torture his enemies. This one target he could kill quickly.

 

The gunman waited silently. His right hand rested near the pistol he wore next to his hip. His black

suit paralleled Wyatt Earp too close for Strickler’s comfort.

 

Had Able known this would happen? Is this what he thought would be a payback for not killing the

girl?

 

Able had to die for this. Father’s protection wouldn’t save him from the days of torture he was

going to suffer.

 

The clock’s hands swung toward noon. They seemed to be taking a long time to Strickler. He knew

it was dream time. He tried to calm himself. He needed to concentrate on pulling the gun on his leg

and shooting the other man dead. It was his only hope of getting out of this dream alive at this

point.

 

The hands pointed straight up. A small bell rang, tinkled really.

 

Strickler pulled his gun. The action was smooth and fast. He worked the hammer and pulled the

trigger. This dream was about to be a vision of a funeral as the other man died in his mind.

 

Pain shot through the assassin’s chest. He looked down. Blood fountained from a hole in his torso.

 

He looked at the gunman. The agent had shot him with a pistol in his left hand. He realized the man

had cheated the draw. Another ripple of pain exploded in his leg. He tried to aim his pistol to

counterattack. It blew up in his hand.

 

“I used to love westerns when I was a kid.” The gunman fired again. Strickler’s other leg went out

and he fell to his knees. “Give me some Paladin anyday. Then one day I could shoot anything. I

had to teach myself not to be a villain.”

 

“So you’re going to let me walk away?” Strickler tried to ignore the pain enough to fix his persona.

 

Pain exploded in his shoulder. He looked at the pieces of pistol in the dirt at his feet. More blood

covered his shoulder and arm.

 

“You don’t get to walk away.” The gunman fired again. One of the assassin’s fingers came off.

“I taught myself not to be a villain on the outside. On the inside, I’m still the little kid who busted

every window within a mile of his house.”

 

Strickler looked into the blank eyes regarding him. He had thought he would be the one dealing out

the talk. He giggled at the realization he was the one getting it.

 

“I’m going to find your boss, and I’m going to shoot him too.” The gunman fired one last time.

“That’s what I do best.”

 

The dream faded away. That didn’t matter to Strickler. He would never wake up. His victims would

not know that he would never bother them again, but they would move on and breathe a little easier

even if they didn’t know why.

 

A maid found Strickler’s body the next day. She called the manager. He called the police. After a

cursory search, the body was taken away to be autopsied. No one made the connection to the battle

the day before.

 

The medical examiner assigned to the case put the cause of death down as a heart attack. It was rare,

but it happened. He filed the work and the body was placed in storage while the police tried to

locate the next of kin.

 

He moved on to the next case.

[csyphrett]

Re: The Magistracy: School Fears

 

epilogue

 

 

Hope Roberts walked into the Office, pleased to see the Bullpen was intact. She went to the vending

machine and got out a bottle of Gatorade. She swung back to her desk. She still had reports to

fill out about the attack on Granite.

 

She spotted a glimmer of blue at Pointer’s desk. She veered over to see what was going on.

 

Pointer sat at his desk. He had installed a separate tower and screen next to the one issued by the

agency. He typed at a report while faces strobed to one side on the extra screen.

 

“What you doing, boss?” She opened the bottle and sipped from it.

 

“Working.” Pointer typed a couple more sentences. He looked up at his subordinate. She sipped at

her drink. “Don’t you have something you should do?”

 

“Nah.” Hope pulled out a bag of jelly beans from her pocket. She juggled her drink and candy until

she had a handful of the sweets and the bag was back in her pants. “I’m early. I can hang out with

you for a while. Want a jelly bean?”

 

“No.” Pointer sat back in his chair. He looked at her with some of the seething anger he was famous

for. “I can find you something to do.”

 

“That’s okay.” Hope gestured at the stationary face next to the revolving lineup. “Who’s that?”

 

“I think he’s the guy behind the guys who attacked our building.” Pointer scratched his face.

“Anything else?”

 

“Why do you think he’s the guy?” The face was bland and average. It could belong to millions of

men all over the world.

 

“If I tell you, you’ll get to work?” Pointer struggled with his temper. She could tell it by the way

his hands clenched on the desk.

 

“Sure.” Hope smiled at him. She popped a handful of candy in her mouth and washed it down with

the Gatorade.

 

“I talked to our prisoners after the Saint worked on them. They refused to cooperate. I called

the Magistracy and asked for a favor. John Public and Maker got the face. I had some technical

guys load a machine up with the software and that’s looking for the face with pattern recognition.”

Pointer turned back to his reports. “Go away.”

 

“That’s not going to be admissible.” Hope scarfed down some more of the beans. “Their lawyers

will howl like banshees.”

 

“This isn’t going to court.” Pointer pointed a finger at Hope’s desk.

 

“Okay.” Hope shrugged. She went to her desk and placed her bag on the floor next to her chair. She

booted up her machine. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

 

Pointer leaned back in his chair. He placed his hands on his desk’s top. He made sure to keep his

fingers laced together.

 

“Go ahead.” He kept his voice calm.

 

“Have you ever had a bad dream that seemed real?” She looked at the agency logo on her screen.

“I had one before things went bad, but I can’t remember anything but the horribleness of it.”

 

“I don’t have bad dreams.” Pointer went back to his computer. “I give them.”

 

Hope pulled up the half-done reports on Granite’s attack. The guys trying to shoot him must have

wanted him out of the way, but he was a rock. You couldn’t hurt a rock.

 

She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised by Pointer’s answer. He always seemed angry. He was

probably the angriest man she had ever known in her life. Any boogeyman haunting him must have

a death wish.

 

“Is this dream thing bothering you?” Pointer cut into her thoughts. He continued to type with the

clacking of keys.

 

“Some.” Hope rubbed her face. “I know it was just a dream, but I can’t shake it.”

 

“Have you talked to Priest about this?” He stopped typing and looked across the room at her.

 

“Not really.” She looked at her screen. “He seems busy with the repairs to his lot at his house.”

 

“I think you need to.” Pointer rubbed his face. “Counseling people is something he does.”

 

“I know.” Hope looked at him. “I meant to, but we’re still cleaning up the building.”

 

“Let’s go.” Pointer stood. He pulled out his phone.

 

“It’s five in the morning.” Hope raised her hands to ward off the sudden move. “Wait. What are you

doing here?”

 

“Working.” Pointer pressed the button for the Saint’s phone. “I do that when I’m not fixing other

people’s problems.”

 

“I don’t remember you doing that.” Hope felt a blush in her face.

 

“Saint?” Pointer frowned at his phone. “Poster Girl and I are coming over. She needs to talk to

someone other than me.”

 

Hope didn’t bother to look shocked. The chief didn’t have any politeness in his body.

 

“He said to come over.” Pointer put the phone away. “Let’s go.”

 

“I could have waited until he came in.” Hope found that her chair didn’t want to let her stand.

 

“Going to his place will keep things private.” Pointer started for the door. “You can pretend you’re

a friend of a friend.”

 

“Thanks.” Hope shut off her computer before grabbing her bag. She followed at a slower pace.

 

She felt the tinge of regret about saying something to her boss. He wasn’t known for his patience

and compassion. She should have just talked to Paul when he came in for work.

 

A dream was just a dream, no matter how bad it was.

 

They rode the elevator down to the garage, and went out the back of the building to the lot. A

majority of the agency vehicles had been bombed, but they still had a few they could use. Pointer

picked one with a peeling paint job and they drove out on the street.

 

They rode through the streets until they saw Paul Priest’s converted church in the distance. Pointer

pulled into the empty slot and cut the engine. He got out, glancing at where his squad member’s car

had been reduced to parts. The craters remained in the asphalt.

 

“I smell bacon.” Hope sniffed the air as they stepped on the sidewalk leading to the shelter.

 

“The Saint runs a shelter.” Pointer led the way to the church and opened the door. He looked

around, but no one was at the desk. “Maybe he’s in the serving line.”

 

They walked around and found an elderly couple and their fellow agent running a cafeteria for a

group of men and women. The people gave Pointer the eyeball as he crossed the room. He gave

them his glare until they looked away.

 

“Hello.” The Saint gestured for them to get in the line. “We’re having bacon, eggs, toast, and grits.”

 

“Sign me up for some of that.” Hope grabbed a tray and joined the line with a smile and a

grumbling stomach.

 

“This is Pointer and Poster Girl.” The Saint dipped scrambled eggs on a plate for Hope. He added

a small serving of grits on one side. “This is Maude and Elliot Cavendish. They keep things running

for me.”

 

Pointer nodded, but he didn’t wait in line for breakfast.

 

“It’s nice to meet you.” Hope offered her hand to the Cavendishs. “Have you been here long?”

 

“Five years.” Maude smiled back. “How do you do?”

 

“All right.” Hope looked around. “Do you have some ketchup?”

 

“Right here.” Elliot went to a refrigerator at the back of the kitchen and grabbed a bottle from it.

He brought it back and handed it over the sneeze shield.

 

“Thanks.” Hope poured a healthy dollop on her eggs after she had them on her tray.

 

“Let’s go to my office.” The Saint waved at a staircase leading up out of the cafeteria. “You can

eat there.”

 

“Thanks for the food.” Hope tasted some of the bacon as she followed her teammate.

 

“I’ll get her out of here before she eats everything.” Pointer followed last.

 

The Saint’s office was small with some battered file cabinets and a desk. He had two restaurant

chairs for guests. He sat down in his own chair and waved them to sit down in the other chairs.

 

“What can I do for you, Hope?” He waited while she devoured part of her breakfast.

 

“I don’t know.” She paused eating. She felt her appetite fading at the prospect of looking bad

in front of her commander and colleague. She looked at Pointer. He had taken on an impassive

demeanor.

 

“Don’t worry about Jeff.” Priest smiled. “He doesn’t talk about his own problems. He’s not going

to talk about yours.”

 

“This is embarrassing.” She pushed the tray away on the desk.

 

Pointer opened the door. He stepped outside and closed it.

 

“I should have kept this to myself.” Hope stared at the door.

 

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Paul rubbed his chin. “If you don’t want to talk to me,

I know some people that are professionals. You can go to them.”

 

“It was just a dream.” Hope closed her eyes. “I just have this feeling about it, and it won’t go away.”

 

“Can you tell me about it?” He waited for her. This was something that couldn’t be rushed.

 

“I don’t remember all that much about it.” She frowned at the blurriness of it. “I think I blocked that

out.”

 

“I can try to do a blessing.” Priest made a gesture with both hands that resembled a book. “That

might help to let the dream fade away. I thought you had been touched by something but I wasn’t

sure, and I could be wrong about that.”

 

“Would you mind?” Hope frowned. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

 

“I just need to get my bible.” He went to the door. “Don’t worry. It won’t take more than a second.”

 

Hope pulled out her phone and played a video game while she waited. She had never been blessed

before. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything.

 

The Saint returned. He held a bible, a bottle, and a shaker of salt. He smiled at her as he put the

things down on his desk.

 

“I’m going to draw a circle around you with the salt. Then I am going to place a couple of drops

of holy water on your forehead. Then I say the prayer.” He smiled. “Nothing to it.”

 

“I can take it.” Hope smiled.

 

He stepped through his preparations. The salt glowed slightly when the ends closed in a circle

around her chair. He took the bottle and uncapped it. He put his fingers over the mouth and placed

two drops on her forehead. He put the bottle down and picked up the bible. He flipped through to

the sermon on the mount. He read the Beatitudes quietly.

 

Hope smiled as her depression cleared in a column of fire. She should have gotten a blessing long

before this.

 

The End

[csyphrett]

Re: The Magistracy: School Fears

 

i will move this over to the web page in a few days

CES