Agency 13 # 14
Aftermath
Picture a tall, thin man, laid out on a hospital bed and wired up to various equipment, looking as though he were comatose - and would be for a long, long time. He looks quite unhappy, though, as if he were experiencing a bad dream, or perhaps subject to loud noise in his sleep. Then, add tons of speech balloons, each coming from various devices meant to monitor his condition, and shouting at him in technobabble. Fun, no?
(That should do for a 'cover', shouldn't it?)
Notice: for those of you that are faint of heart, the following tale is not at all G-rated. It may include foul language, excessive violence, sexual innuendo, and other things that would get this story burned, were it in a printed form, by the more fanatical elements of every religion on earth. In other words, if these things offend you, you may want to stop reading now.
(That should do for a 'disclaimer', shouldn't it?)
***
She sat in a chair opposite Seņor Barnett, watching him lie there in bed.
She'd been there every day for the last three weeks, pausing only to eat and be prodded to some extent by various Mikes and Michelles, each wanting to take a peek at the cybernetic implants that had been 'given' to her by Wizardyne engineers. They'd taken her arm and leg apart, investigated every circuit that had been placed in her body, and ensured that there were no 'catch' circuits in place to spy on the Agency.
After that, simple scientific curiosity took over, and even more Mikes and Michelles wanted to figure out how her bionic parts worked - and their technological origin. She didn't mind very much, of course, because it didn't cause her any pain, and she cared for little else save for the well-being of the person who'd freed her from veritable slavery at the Wizardyne corporation's hands.
The only problem was that in doing so, he'd overtaxed his already fragile psyche and descended into a coma, one that hadn't broken since Agency 13's big fight with Wizardyne's prototype cyborgs.* Of course, she hadn't left Barnett's side since, much to the chagrin of the man's Agency-hired doctors, though ultimately her presence had helped the Jensen Congress out greatly - intelligence-wise, at least.
For instance, they did learn where Wizardyne's advanced gear originated.
***
Mike 013 and Agent Deathmonger pored over the information the Jensen Congress' scientists had determined regarding the robotic limbs of both the girl in their presence and the Cyborg in the Red Suit. Of course, they weren't concentrating all that much, as the duo was still quite sore from their run-in with the violent vigilante known only as the Working Girl, who'd roughed them up during their meeting in Los Angeles.**
"So you're saying that this technology is based directly on a design that comes from sort of... cross-time agency? Some sort of dimension-hopping corporation??" Mike looked at his compatriot and nodded.
"Yes. It would seem that the Jensen Congress isn't the only time-crossing agency that's interested in our earth... which is a bad thing. I've tried my darndest to keep the influence of agencies like our own to a minimum, to allow earth to develop naturally."
"Which is why we're way out here in the middle of nowhere, right? And why your alternates are under house arrest while they're on our earth, earth 13 as you call it, correct?" Agent Deathmonger paused to collect his thoughts. After all, he understood the basis of the Jensen Congress, but the idea of alternate planes of reality and variant versions of earth and its inhabitants is still something hard to swallow for folks like himself.
"I take it that these other folks aren't quite so interested in our world's well-being. What'd you call them - Ubiquidyne?" Mike nodded again.
"Yes. And the worst part is that they may not be alone. I've been talking with my fellows over the last day or so, and it seems that we may have at least two more agencies like Ubiquidyne working in our timeline right now. The only problem is that we have even less information on them. Grr."
Agent Deathmonger paused again, thinking about what Mike had left unsaid - their recent actions against the Wizardyne corporation in the forefront of his mind. "I see what you're getting at. While we usually just investigate weird happenings and such, you're wanting Agency 13 to take a more active role in opposing these time-crossing groups like Ubiquidyne, aren't you?" This, in turn, generated a pause from Mike 013.
"Yes. I think it's absolutely vital that we do so, to keep these groups from harming the earth - for whatever purposes they have in mind. Our little operation is simply meant to collect information for use in other timelines, but Ubiquidyne and these other goof balls are changing things. This not only messes with the Jensen Congress' research, but is causing innocent people to get mowed down in the process. And I can't let that go on."
Agent Deathmonger looked at his compatriot, and nodded in the affirmative. "Of course, we have to make sure the others are up for this fight of ours, too. After all, some of 'em aren't quite as... combative as are you and I, Mike. We'd better have a vote on this, just to make sure everybody's cool with this - though I don't see it being too much of a problem, man." Mike 013 just looked at his ally in this new mission and shrugged.
"I hope so. I hope so..."
***
"Bullshit!"
Mike 013 sighed as he tried to reason with Sticks McClellan. "Now that's not entirely fair, Sticks. We -" Of course, Mike couldn't continue, as his martial investigator was less than pleased with his reasoning.
"I said you're full of it. You and your precious Congress only want to protect your own interests. Admit it! If you want to take these jerks out, why don't you just say so? If they're as bad as these Wizardyne goons, fine, but what if they're not?"
Collecting himself, lest he say something he'd regret, Mike steeled his resolve and continued. "You're only half-right, Sticks. Yes, the Congress is protecting its interests, but that's not the point. These groups are out there, killing people to get their way. If our work is sullied, fine, but I'm not about to let these time-crossing thugs kill innocent victims. That's the moral of this story, no matter what you think."
Sticks looked daggers at her boss, but resigned herself to the whole deal. "Fine, whatever. Funny that you didn't care so much a month ago, but no big deal, Mike." Mike then had to pause yet again, simply annoyed that his otherwise sensible operative had flown off the handle so. He tried to come up with a witty comeback to Sticks' parting shot, but Chase got his two cents in before he could piece his reply together.
"Doesn't this get in the way of our whole mission of collecting information on these bizarre groups for use on other earths? You know, clean, non-tainted information that'll get invalidated by our actions? If we cross the line from simply looking in on these groups to actively opposing them, aren't we just as bad as all these other thugs running around and causing trouble, no matter what our justifications are?"
Mike prepared to answer Chase's argument, but oddly, he was prevented from doing so by Sir Tophat, who - as usual - had all of his wits about him. "But Chase, are we not interfering simply by observing events in progress, no matter how minimally? Besides, how often do we sink to personal combat or some other level of antagonism against our targets while on the job? I, myself, am guilty of this, as are you, my friend.
"I recommend that we all give Mike the benefit of the doubt, as we all walked into this situation, including our sponsorship by the Jensen Congress, with our eyes wide open. Let us go along with his plan, perhaps reviewing our actions in six months to a year to determine whether or not they are having a beneficial or detrimental effect on the world. Would this be acceptable to the two of you?"
Sticks McLellan and Chase Storey looked at Sir Tophat and, though they had their doubts about the whole situation, decided that his idea would work best. After all, if they were right, they would have 'I told you so' dibs. As they acquiesced to the slight change in Agency 13's mission, the group was interrupted by none other than the girl that they'd been hosting these last few weeks. "Hey, I'm all for this fight myself. Count me in!"
This caused Mike even more discomfort, as he was sure that he'd locked the door to the briefing room before he started his little meeting. "I appreciate the offer, ma'am, but honestly, I'm not quite sure what you're capable of, and I can't be sure that I can trust you, considering. Heck, I still don't even know your name..." The girl looked at Mike 013 and smiled.
"Well, my given name's Harolene Zachs, but I suppose I need some sort of code name or something."
Harolene looked at her cybernetic arm and leg, and apparently having decided on one, reintroduced herself. "Heck, I suppose you can just call me the Post-modern Girl! As far as trusting me, you don't have to worry about that, Mikey. As long as you give me another shot at Wizardyne, and let me save other people from suffering like I have at their hands, I'm your girl. Besides, you ain't getting rid of me until Seņor Barnett is all better.
"So you may as well get some use out of me in the meantime..." With that, Mike 013 looked at his compatriots in crime, and shrugged yet again. It would seem that the day was full of unpleasant little surprises. "Well, unless any of you others have a problem with that, I suppose we can work our new friend into our action. If anything, we'll need all the help we can get as we figure out who our new 'friends' are - and work to stop 'em!"
***
"Aargh!!!"
George Baker reeled in pain, his body thrashing in naked agony as the results of the miscast spell spread throughout his body. He's something of a mystic novice, you see, in the process of being trained in the arts of natural, earthly magics by a strange plant-like entity calling itself Phytodaemoni. This thing wished to grant George the means to give power and voice to his extreme environmental beliefs, but the man was impatient.
He wanted to master the magics his master proffered him now, not years down the road. As such, he attempted a spell that turned out to be well beyond his means - an incantation meant to summon forth a powerful plant elemental from some unknown layer of reality - but it failed. Failed miserably! Instead of manifesting in the target circle, the elemental essence of plant life instead found itself shunted straight into George's body.
"Aargh!!!"
Mad with pain as the plant matter tried to coexist with his own, animal flesh, George nonetheless felt his body transforming, changing into something more than it was mere moments ago. Seeing his twisted frame in an unfortunately handy mirror, however, was what finally tipped the poor novice sorcerer completely over the edge, and he smashed his way out of his master's domicile in a psychotic rage as a result.
As George made a beeline away from the place he's called home these last couple of years, his mystic master looked upon him with pride, knowing that he was indeed correct about the man's fragile psyche, and that having left his spell book handy, the impatient youth would attempt to use it now, as opposed to when he could better wield the knowledge.
"Excellent... everything proceeds per my plans... soon the earth will be mine! MINE! Ah hah hah hah hah!"
* See Agency 13 #12.
** See Agency 13 #13.
***
Tune in next month as Chase Storey and Sticks McLellan investigate rumors of a strange, plant-life monstrosity stalking the swamps of Florida, only to be interrupted in their quest by two old enemies with one heck of a grudge. Will the two intrepid detectives be able to convince their foes to join them in their mission, or will the focus of their current job be unopposed in its efforts to destroy several small towns? Find out in thirty!
***
Agency 13 # 14 - Aftermath
Copyright 2000, 2005, 2012, 2023 Denny Hill 2
All rights reserved and so forth.
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