Agency 13 # 7
A Conspiracy of Coincidence
If you will, picture a beautiful and tall blonde woman, wearing a black and white stretch fabric outfit and carrying twin fighting sticks. Now, think of her in the midst of an aging library, and locked in mortal combat with a well-to-do fellow in a white tuxedo, who's attempting to bring the energies crackling around his hands to bear on her. Of course, since she just hit him in the head, he's not likely to succeed in that task.
(That should do for a 'cover', shouldn't it?)
Notice: for those of you that are faint of heart, the following tale isn't exactly what one would call G-rated in nature. It contains a plethora of bad language, excessive violence, sexual innuendo, and of course, things that would get this story burned, were it in a printed form, by the more fanatical elements of just about any religion on earth. In other words, if these things offend you - you've been warned.
(That should do for a 'disclaimer', shouldn't it?)
***
The two investigators lay in bed, the man gently puffing on a cigarette. He was smiling like the village idiot, and had a veritable glow about him, while his sudden companion wasn't so happy. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy the last hour or so spent with this smooth customer; no, it was the fact that she worked with him that made her uneasy. After all, the last time she got involved with her compatriots in the bizarre, bad things happened.
Really bad things.
"So, Miss McLellan, why the sour puss? Not having fun?" The man, while himself happy with this turn of events, could tell that his partner in recent fun was not.
"It's not that, Chase. It's just that, you know, we work together. I don't know if this is a good thing." He smirked at her, though inwardly he was hoping she wasn't about to bail out on this. After all, in his line of work, it wasn't often that he got to work with such a lovely young woman.
"Well, if I'm being too pushy, just say so, and I'll back off..." His sentence went unfinished, as she rolled over and gave him a kiss. Not a weak, pointless kiss, but one that had backbone. He inwardly smiled and put out his smoke, resigned to have another half hour of fun, at the very least. She, on the other hand, simply decided to try and put her catastrophic past behind her, and just enjoy the moment - for once.
However, she couldn't help but think back on the events that led up to this particular encounter, and wonder if she was making the wrong move. This Chase fellow seemed smarter than her last would-be boyfriend, and seemed to care for her feelings a whole lot more. And, after all, he was much more attractive, despite the cigarette smoking. It seemed too sudden, though, since she'd only started working for the Agency two weeks ago.
***
Sticks McLellan, the newest Agency 13 investigator, is a tall, blonde woman who you'll typically see wearing a black leotard that one would most often wear to an aerobics class - though the twin fighting sticks she carries on her person at all times and her generally angry features would make you think anything but 'dumb blonde'. And, if you were stupid enough to try and make such a remark to her face, you'd learn to regret it. For quite a while.
She'd only been with the Agency for about a day, having left the Church when their head priest tried to put the moves on her. Being a priestess of Nike, the Greek goddess of excellence, Sticks was more than able to teach the man a lesson, namely by using her sticks against, well, his own. Though she thought herself stupid now, at the time she hadn't realized why such a man would devote himself to the worship of Aphrodite - it was for the sex and the sex alone.
The creep.
Anyway, Sticks was working out in the Agency gym, mostly doing (you guessed it) an intense aerobic workout, when Mike 013 came to see her. Waiting for her to finish her current routine out of courtesy, Mike ended up sitting there for five minutes before speaking. "Sticks, whenever you're done with your workout, we've got something of a mystery for you to check out. If you're game, of course." She looked at him for a long moment, and smiled.
"Of course, Mike."
Actually, she wasn't sure, as investigative work wasn't really her forte. She was more into simply beating a problem into submission, but while learning the nature of her patron deity, Sticks found that brute force wasn't the solution to all problems - most, sure, but not all. Cleaning up, she made her way to Mike's office, where she found Agent Deathmonger and some other fellow she hadn't seen before, all going over some papers.
"Hello, Sticks. You know Agent Deathmonger, but not this gentleman. Sticks, meet Chase Storey, private investigator. He's been busy on a special project of ours for some time, so that's why you haven't seen him here before." The tall blonde man looked at her and smiled, offering his hand in a shake. She took it, smiled back, and inwardly frowned as she saw him checking her out. 'Pig' kept intruding on her mental dialogue.
"Anyway, I hate to give this job to you, as it's something that Sir Tophat would usually check out, but you should do fine. Basically, we received reports that there was something of a brawl down in Mexico between the Society of Explicated Brethren and Mindwatch. The first is a group of sorcerous idealists, and the other is the self-proclaimed policemen of all psis on the earth. What we want you to do is go down there and see what they were fighting about."
Sticks sort of looked at Mike 013 for a minute, shrugging. "Do we have any other data on these two groups? I'd hate to walk down there blind, and get myself into a serious bind through my ignorance." Mike smiled at that, seeing that she was at least thorough, and pulled out the Agency's dossiers on the two paranormal organizations. Sitting down to read the information, Sticks found that she was ready for the trip after only a further hour of preparation.
Basically, her reading told her that the Society believed that magic is the way of the future - but that only they should determine what magic secrets will someday be revealed to the world. To that end, they scoured the world for every magical relic and book they could find, hoarding the knowledge for themselves - which, of course, tends to make other mages uneasy. The Society doesn't care, though, for they have a Vision, and that makes them dangerous.
Mindwatch, on the other hand, doesn't limit what knowledge psionic folks hold; however, they are vicious vigilantes who investigate any alleged misuse of psi powers across the earth, and deal with the offender - either by wiping their minds or banishing them to the farthest reaches of space and time. Not a happy bunch, to be sure, but most non-psis on the earth have nothing to fear from Mindwatch - unless one of their operatives go rogue, that is.
Packing her gear, which basically consisted of a bunch of money and luggage to make her look like a stupid American tourist, Sticks got on the plane as soon as possible, and made for the small town of Seguridad, which was several miles out of Acapulco. By the time she got there, it was night time, so she donned her clueless tourist outfit - jeans, a tank top, sandals, and of course, a big obnoxious red leather purse - and started walking the town.
She got the expected looks from various locals. Several sneers and laughs - and yes, catcalls - but after about an hour, Sticks found what she was looking for: a clue to what happened the night before. She climbed into the burnt out hulk of a restaurant, and began looking at the signs of battle. The place was heavily singed by some sort of energy discharge, and there were several former human husks littering the floor, along with ashen tables and chairs.
Reaching out with her spiritual powers, granted by the auspices of her faith to Nike, Sticks read the ashes and burnt bodies, and got a decent mental picture of events taking place last night. Her mind replayed the image of several men in white leisure suits, eating at the restaurant and out of place compared to the less heavily dressed locals; it was about ninety-five degrees, even at night, and they looked all too comfortable - not a bead of sweat on them.
Just then, a lone woman burst into the restaurant, crying something to the effect of "Fools! You trifle with Mindwatch at your own risk!" She then closed her eyes as if meditating, and flames spontaneously burst forth from her hands, crisping one of the overdressed gentlemen instantly. Before he realized he was dead, the man ran about in circles, overturning tables and sending the local diners into a justifiable panic. The other two then reacted. Violently.
One waved his fingers in a mind-bending pattern, tapped his left foot on the ground twice, and a barrier of blue energy appeared between them and the leather-clad Mindwatch psi. She then laughed, dodging the second man's energy blast as she focused her will onto his skull, and caved it in with little effort. He collapsed to the earth in a puddle of gore while his partner finally countered the psi's devastating assaults with a powerful spell.
Basically, he opened up a portal to some unknown and unknowable plane of reality, and terrible tentacles issued forth to grapple and pull her in. Shrieking in rage, the angry psi sank into the portal before she could counter this deadly move, and the last remaining mage simply closed it behind her, leaving her to a likely ugly - yet short - fate. He then smiled and walked out of the establishment, now ablaze thanks to his associates' death throes.
Shifting the focus of her reading, Sticks followed his ghostly past image through the streets of Seguridad, and found that he'd gone to the local library. Ending her priestly reading of the past, Sticks McLellan then went back to her hotel room for the night, determined to come to this place in normal working hours to see just what is so special about this location. After all, it's not every day that a Society member visits an ordinary library.
Come morning, Sticks reviewed what she'd learned the night before, and realized that she still had yet to figure out why the two groups were out for each other's throats. Heading back to the burnt-out restaurant first, hoping to get a read on that psi's recent history, Sticks found herself ambushed by two angry looking fellows, both wearing black leather outfits, who seemed to be waiting for any wielder of magic, not just Brethren mages.
"Look what we've got here, another nosey mage. What should we do with her, Tyrone? You think we should teach her a - ack!!" Before the smarmy psi could finish his thought, Sticks brought up her heel and drove it deep into his groin; the high heels may be rather impractical, but the sharpened points on them ought to keep the goon from bringing his psionic powers to bear. An inch and a half of sharp heel tip where you live will do that to a body.
The other psi, the fellow named Tyrone, seemed ready to utilize his powers on Sticks, when she reached out and grabbed him in the throat with a particularly effective choke hold; one could say it was mystically inclined, in fact. "I don't know what your problem is, you bozo, but I'm this far from popping your head off. I'm not a Brethren stooge and I'm not out to give you trouble, so tell me what your deal is or I'll give you a really bad day."
It wasn't what she said that scared Tyrone so much as how she said it - her tone didn't vary from an eerie, eerie calm in the slightest. "Okay! Okay! I get the point, already! He relaxed, and Sticks, after a few seconds, did so as well. She didn't help the other fellow off the ground, however; she left him to his own little world of pain. "We're out to stop the Brethren from stealing one of our agents away. He's something of an magical adept as well as a psi.
"He's what you might call a psychoturge - a master of both arts. The Brethren didn't like such a body in our ranks, and decided to deal with him one way or the other, and so we're here to stop them, no matter what!" He said that with defiance, as if he expected her to disagree, but Sticks only nodded.
"Okay. I'm only supposed to be here as an observer, but since I'm a sucker for an honest face, I believe you. I'll help you clowns out."
"I know where the last of these mages is hiding out. I'll give him something to think about while you two get this psycho-whatever out of town. Fair enough?" Tyrone looked at her and smiled.
"Yes, ma'am!"
She then frowned at him, and replied "Just don't make me regret this, punk, or I'll come looking for you. Got it?" He nodded and collected his ailing friend, his touch causing some golden energies to flow into the man, apparently enabling him to walk again.
As the two ambled away, Sticks made her way to the Seguridad library, and found nobody inside - no patrons, no librarians, no nothing. Well, nothing save for one charming looking fellow in a white suit. He smiled at her and asked "Can I do anything for you, Miss?" She smiled, and decided to go with the ultra-blunt approach.
"Yep. I want you to tell me why you trashed that restaurant last night. Why you had to cause so much damage here - sorcerer!"
Thinking he had another psi to deal with, the suited man frowned, and began a spell to dispose of this girl like he did the other two nights ago. Sticks shrugged, pulled one of her fighting sticks out of her obnoxious red purse and threw it at the man, striking him square between the eyes and spoiling his spell most abruptly. "Ow! That hurts! I'll - I'll - I'll! Argh!" Enraged, the mage collected energy around his hands, and came running at Sticks.
Sidestepping his mad assault with ease, Sticks kicked him in the side of his left knee and grinned maliciously as it popped out of socket. Before he could fall, however, she brought out another stick and pulled it around his throat, strangling the man. "I asked a simple enough question, you ass, now answer it or I'll get even madder!" The mage was about to risk another spell, but a crushing pressure applied to his windpipe ended any thoughts of that.
He stopped, released the powerful energies around his hands, and sagged in Sticks' grasp. In a hoarse voice, he sneered. "We were here to protect what is ours - the destiny of mankind, you bloody interloper! By distracting me, you allow those Mindwatch buffoons to gain access to a mage of terrible potential. Fool! You know not what you do!" Smiling inside, Sticks was happy that her guess was correct - though she didn't expect this mage to admit it outright.
"Well, I'll take that chance. Mindwatch may be no better than you, but at least they don't keep psis out of your outfit, eh? You should learn to share, buddy." She then clubbed the unknown mage in the back of the head, leaving him unconscious on the library floor. He'd live, but he would have a headache for several days. Too bad he had to be such an ass, Sticks thought. He was rather charming, in a British sort of way.
Maybe it was just the black goatee that she liked. Clearing her mind of such base thoughts, Sticks cleared out of the library and then Seguridad proper, hoping to get back to America before the idiot could wake up and do something to follow her. She was hoping he lacked the means to trace her past as she had, in turn, done to him. However, these were worries that would be dealt with another day, and Sticks was resolved to simply enjoy the flight home.
On the way, a small kid walked past her seat and grabbed her hand momentarily; he was standing next to Tyrone! He looked at her with piercing brown eyes and simply said "Thank you." Sticks smiled and told him that he was welcome, and then watched him as he returned to his seat. The child seemed so happy, it just made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. She'd actually done a little good for the world, even if only three or four people would ever know it.
***
After the two had finished their enjoyment of each other again, Sticks looked back at her new friend, this charming little toad that she'd so recently despised, and couldn't help but wonder what made him tick. "So, what made you hook up with the Agency, Chase? I mean, a smart guy like you should be on CNN's payroll, or at least USA Today's. Why the incredibly risky work that we do every day, eh?" Chase looked at her and smiled again.
"Give me your first name and I'll talk..."
"What...?" The priestess looked stupefied by the question, but Chase simply kept grinning at her.
"Your name. I can't keep going around calling you Sticks, now, can I? Especially since we're... you know..." This resulted in Chase getting a swift smack upside the head, and a laugh from Sticks.
"If I talk, you do. That's the deal, right?" When he nodded, Sticks finally admitted her name, as if it were a terrible secret.
"Danielle. It's Danielle, okay?"
"Eesh, you act like it's such a curse. But fine, you came through with your part of the bargain." Chase lit up another smoke, and then shifted into narrator mode. Just by looking at him, Sticks could tell he liked talking about himself. You could almost see the self-satisfied glow of his. "Well, it all started in Morocco, after I got my walking papers from the Enquirer. It seems that my stories were taking too realistic an edge for my editors, and..."
***
Next month, we continue our nighttime talk with Chase Storey's very first Agency 13 adventure, an investigation into the mysterious Normalcy Squad that Seņor Barnett ran into back in issue #4. His particular talents were perfect for a search into the motives behind these fellows, save for one thing - they were already on the move against the Agency itself! Tune in next time to see how Chase manages to avoid a nasty fate at the hands of these vigilantes!
***
Agency 13 # 7 - A Conspiracy of Coincidence
Copyright 1999, 2004, 2012, 2023 Denny Hill 2
All rights reserved and so forth.
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