"So you traveled to a parallel dimension?" Clara asked with narrowed eyes pointed towards Mozart. He knew she would never believe him. Hell, he wasn't sure if he believed himself either. What he had just told his siblings was verifiably insane. But it was too important of an event to hide from them. Besides, he was terrible at keeping secrets from them. They'd have known something was up almost immediately. Plus the way he felt about the event was that it was a warning. "In your dreams. Your dreams again. Always with your dreams."
She was already annoyed with him for proving the four of them had the same dream the other night. She was even more annoyed that he was pushing with Ludwig to move them into a superhero lifestyle. Now he was here telling them he could control his dreams and travel to different places. She might kill him after this one.
"Like Freddy Krueger shit, man!" Bach exclaimed, bringing a smile to Art's face. His brother was always ready with some pop culture reference. Granted, they had only been out of the lab for a few months so their true pop culture knowledge only went so far, but Clara hacking Netflix had really helped. "You should have grabbed the big space octopus and brought him here so we could have taken care of him for good."
Art chuckled, "The thing looked as big as California, B. I don't think we'd be able to take care of something like that."
"No, but we're gonna have to," Lud added in. He looked deep into his brother's eyes. Lud may have been the one who chose his words carefully, but he was also the one who could read someone with a look. "First the dream we all share. Now this. Clara I know you don't see anything but the rational, but the universe is out there giving us all kinds of hints towards the irrational. Maybe other people are having these dreams. I don't know. But until someone else stops whatever it is they're trying to tell us, we have to assume we're the only ones who can. We need to figure out what this thing is, and what we need to do."
"It was trying to pull down some sort of tower," Art shook his head. "I was glowing. It made me feel...good. Almost as if it was made from pure light. It hurt the thing, but the malice in that red eye made it clear that it was going to bring it down at some point. I think we have to make sure that doesn't happen."
The four of them sat in silence. Mozart knew that Clara would be the first one to break it, but he let her get there. He had nothing to say that would change her mind. Not yet. She would have to see, eventually. That much he knew. Nothing else would really work.
"So you think another dream has revealed another layer of the destiny onion?" Clara asked as she looked at her hands. "I don't know if you've lost your mind or we need to get you a sainthood. I don't know what's happened to you lately, but I know you're not going to just make things up. You do truly believe all this stuff. It might all be bullshit, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."
"Holy crap," Bach blurted out without hesitation. Everyone snorted with laughter. "I mean, I'm sorry, but I don't think any of us thought that was going to be your reaction."
"Yea, well, it's clear that no one is going to listen to me around here. So I'll go with the flow, but when all this turns out to be nonsense, just remember who told you so," she shrugged.
"Real vote of confidence, sis," Mozart elbowed her arm. "Feel like I can fly after those words of encouragement."
"Hey, I can't change too much," she shrugged. "But you were the one to get us out of the lab. You're the fearless leader, and even if I don't always agree with your line of thinking, I know your instincts are strong. So what do we do?"
Mozart saw that everyone was looking at him. He understood about as much of his dreams as they did. But still they looked at him. He had led them out of the lab, but they had been as instrumental in that as he was. Without them, he really had nothing. But still, here they were looking to him.
"We keep going out and fighting in the city," he nodded as the plan formulated the plan in his head. "We keep being the helpers Lud wants us to be. The more we're out there, the more we have the opportunity to get in the way of...whatever the hell I saw."
"Sounds like fun," Ludwig cracked his knuckles. "We going out again tonight?"
"Damn straight we are." Mozart smiled back at his brother.
"Come on, Jacks," Angel pleaded over the Skype call with her old friend.
Aaron Jackson smiled sheepishly on the other end. He ran his hand over his closely buzzed hair. He had never known Angel to ask about police matters before. Not that he was really involved with the police directly, but his dad was the commissioner of the San Maria force. If anyone was going to know about what was going on with the frog things, it was him.
"Ang," he shook his head, "what's your interest in this? It's just another freak show. Look at the world we live in. It's nothing all that new."
Angel shifted in her seat, her hazel eyes narrowing behind her glasses. He had her there, but hell, she had to be straight with him. He had been one of her best friends growing up, and that wasn't going to change now.
"I think those things came from IDRG," she blurted out. It was stupid to talk about this online. If IDRG was running some shady government weapons project or something, she would obviously be under surveillance. Telling the commissioner's son was asking for some men in black to show up at her apartment door. "I can't prove it. Not yet, but I'm going to do my best to do so."
"Holy shit!" his eyes widened at that. "If that was the case they'd probably either be super villain mad scientists or some black ops shit! We shouldn't be talking about this. The sniper is probably outside my window."
"Okay, I get it, you're messing with me," she rolled her eyes. "But I'm serious. They came from IDRG. Has your dad mentioned anything to you about them?"
"Listen, there's a video that's gonna drop," Jacks shook his head. "CTV footage from the warehouse. It shows the frog things fighting the gang. My dad wanted to keep it under wraps. They were planning on hitting that warehouse themselves. The Bandits were allegedly running guns and...humans out of there."
Angel grimaced in disgust at that, "Human trafficking? Seriously? Ugh. I'm glad the frogs torched the place."
"Yea...well...I dunno if you should be," Aaron cautioned her. "My dad is planning on saying they did it just to cover their own tracks. That they hired the Bandits to bring them humans. To bring them...food."
"What!?" she blurted out. Sure, the giant frogs were scary looking, but they had not harmed her. They certainly could have eaten her if they wanted to. But they had apologized for taking her card to break into IDRG. "That's nuts."
"Hey, that is my dad," he shot back.
"Sorry," she winced.
He put his hand up, " 's Okay. I don't necessarily agree with the idea. But he doesn't want the city turning into Lost Haven. Wants to nip this out right away. Figures turning the city against the creatures is the quickest way to do that."
It made sense. People would buy it. It also would lead to people looking out for the things. Could lead her to them quicker.
"Hey, I gotta go," Jacks said apologetically. "Be safe out there, Ang. If your hunch is right, you're about to be in the middle of a mess. I don't want a lose a friend to mad scientists."
"Thanks, Jacks," she laughed. "But maybe they'll turn me into a lizard or something instead."
"Should we be worried?" the young man asked the older one as they sat in a corner booth of a sandwich shop, listening into Angel's conversation. "She's looking for monsters, sir. This has disaster in the making."
The older, bigger man took a huge bite of his sandwich before taking a swig from the bottle of beer that sat in front of him. As he worked the food down, he shrugged, "Looking for monsters is what she's supposed to do. Who are we to stop her?"
"Yes, sure, sir," the young man nodded along with the other's line of reasoning. "But if she gets herself killed before the correct time we're in deep shit. We're all in deep shit. And whatever these frog things are, they're clearly monsters. They're dangerous. Drawn to crime and violence. Just like all the rest of them. Monsters, and the person we're supposed to keep alive until the proper moment is following them around."
"We're keeping an eye on her," the older one shrugged. "I don't know what else you think we can do about it."
"We can make contact," he protested. "I know it goes against orders, but if we can get her to trust us-"
"No," the older man shook his head. "We stick to watching until we get the go-ahead. And only until we get the go ahead. I've been doing this for decades, kid. I've been fighting for it as long as I've lived. You're new to the gig. We do things by the book. The world has waited for eons. We can wait for a little longer."
The young man merely grumbled and went back to his sandwich.
Jordan Dyer sat in his office watching the news report. It showed his creations taking down the common thugs of the city with ease. That part of it made him smile. They were performing admirably out in the field. Their imprinted training was obvious. Of course they were still horribly disappointing in the obedience factor, but that problem was still nagging the project.
What worried him was the fact that the police were trying to pin crimes on them. He knew they weren't capable of that. They seemed to be unrepentant do-gooders. But them being the target of a police hunt meant that the trail, however unlikely, could lead back to the lab.
"This is going to be a problem," Myles Dyson warned. "Somehow they'll get us wrapped up in this. And then this will all have been nothing."
Dyer rubbed his pointed chin and considered what to do. The way forward was obvious. Easy, even.
"Not if we offer the police support," he smiled wryly at Dyson. "Give them all the help they need to fight both the gangs and the creatures. And in return they hand over the creatures when they capture them."
Myles smiled broadly back at his partner, "That's brilliant. I'll start up an aid package."
"No, I'll take care of that," Dyer waved him off. "I need you working on the neural link and the transport device. We need both working. I feel like time is no longer on our side."
"Yes sir."
The van bumped over an unevenly paved street, and Crash hear the muffled yell of whoever was in the crate in the back. Granted all they did was yell. He hated this job. Didn't have any real idea why the boss had taken it in the first place. Money must have been good. If his raise for agreeing to do it was any indication, that was the case. Still, delivering people in boxes to the creepy old blind man did nothing but give him the willies.
This seemed to be the life of a criminal in today's world thought. As the superheroes kept popping up, criminals were forced to get more creative with revenue streams. He didn't like it. Hell, he thought about getting out of the grind a few times in the past few years. Didn't know if it was even possible. Was probably in too deep at this point, and he had no idea what else he could do. Been in this life for too long for anything else.
"Would you shut up back there!?" Burn yelled and slapped the side of the crate, causing a muffled whimper. His wiry arms folded back over his chest and he rolled his eyes. Burn was the opposite of Crash. While Crash was thoughtful and not necessarily onboard for what they were doing, Burn was enthusiastic, sadistic, and confident in everything he did. "Can you believe we had to ditch the truck because of those freaks? Never had to hear them before in the truck."
"Well, that's what happens when your truck ends up on national news," Crash shook his head. "We're lucky they didn't get our faces on the CTV footage."
"And what if we were? Would give me an opportunity to waste some cops," Burn shrugged. "Nothing wrong with that."
Crash shook his head. Burn was a psychopath. He knew that. But his partner had always had his back, and gotten him out of a lot of tight spots. Crash fell into the life of crime after his career ending injury. Meanwhile it was like Burn was born for it. He had been in prison by the time he was a teenager. Killed his first man inside there. Somehow he got out, and has been tearing through the country ever since before signing up with El Bandito and the Bandits.
"Whatever," Crash responded. "At least this is the last one we have to drop off."
"Don't like dealing with the old loon, huh?" Burn chuckled. "I do have to admit that he even gives me the creepy crawlies sometime."
The fact that their customer scared Burn was enough to send a shiver down Crash's spine. Burn wasn't scared of anyone. He was too crazy for that. But this guy...this guy was different. H was some sort of cult leader. Was probably eating the people, for all they knew. But there was a fanaticism in his eyes that confirmed he was dangerous.
The van pulled up into a dark, dingy alley on the industrial side of town. The old smelting factory had been abandoned for decades, but the old man and his followers had moved in a month or so ago. The Bandits had made three other deliveries to them in that time, and all were the same cargo; A clearly-terrified individual in a light-tight box. They were never told the reason for it, but neither had they asked.
The rusty, creaking door in the ally swung open and out walk the old man flanked by two followers. He was clad in a sharp, black suit with a black shirt underneath. The darkness of his garb made his pale skin and eyes stand out even further. He was like a skeleton in a suit, you could see ever contour of his skull under the thin, cracked skin. He smiled at the two gang members as his followers wheeled out a dolly. The smile on a normal person would have been considered warm, but from him it seemed to sap the warmth out of Crash's blood.
"Thank you gentlemen," he smiled his bony smile at them. "What you have done will help change the course of history. For that, you will be rewarded in the new world."
"Whatever you say, padre," Burn saluted to the old man. "As long as our boss gets paid and it trickles down to us day laborers, that's all the reward I need."
The old man smiled broadly, almost predator-like, and slapped him on the shoulder, almost like he could see it, "Well said, my young friend, but there is a great change about us. Surely you can feel it! And in the new world, our dark lords will spare you."
"Cool beans," Burn rolled his eyes.
Then the old man's eyes, as dead as they were, turned to Crash. Their milky whiteness unsettled him, not because he was scared of a blind man, but because in that moment he was sure the old man could see him.
"What about you, son?" the living corpse asked. "Are you prepared for the world of shadow? Of the coming of the true state of the universe?"
"Man, I don't have any fuckin' clue what you're talking about," Crash grumbled, not all that convincingly.
"You will soon, my son," the grimace somehow got wider. "You will soon."
