THE FAMILY THAT PREYS

Part II: Wheel of Fortune

By Stuart Fairchild

Department H

Her birth name is Narya, demi-goddess to the Eskimo Gods of the North, charged with the protection of Canada’s boundaries from its greatest threat, the Great Beast. Blessed with abilities to morph into any animal within the borders she protects, she had found allies with outstanding abilities in the realm of mortal man, joining their group of Canadian protectors, Alpha Flight.

It was a recent call for aide that she once more appeared at the headquarters of the team she has been apart of since its inception. It is another ability they seek from the woman they know as Snowbird, the power of post-cognition.

“I see them,” she called out.

Phantom images of the past appeared before her body, slowly playing out in front of her as if she was present during the event. She could only describe to the others what transpires before her view, as her ability was only shared through her eyes.

“There is another man in the room,” she said, analyzing the intruder as he seemed to just appear from nowhere. “He is slender in build with body markings on his frame, almost as if he is symbolizing his tribe, I do not recognize him, though.”

She moved closer to the position of the other ghostly form, bold and erect as she always believed a leader should. A moment of admiration was felt from Snowbird as she looked upon the man closely.

“The one you call the Director, stood here, unafraid of his visitor. His eyes are that of a man unafraid of death.”

Her attention shifts rapidly, noticing some sort of conversation taking place. She can not hear what is said but it is a conversation of some importance by the easy gestures of both men.

“The man laughs, yet the Director reveals no emotion. It is as if he expects no quarter from the assailant,” she reluctantly said.

“He approaches closer and…” Snowbird paused. An unexpected movement of the other’s head toward her perks her interest. She notices the look of a killer in his eyes, as they peer to her position. Though she can not hear the words of the past, the movements of his lips are ascertained easily; it is her name. “He is aware of my presence,” She said, unfamiliar to the feeling she was entangled in.

“What!” Gentry shouted.

A sudden pain ripped through Snowbird’s body, crumpling her onto the carpet as her normally calm voice shrieked in agony. She cried out for mercy as her skin felt an unseen burning sensation upon her fair skin. Rolling and kicking, random parts of her body morph into creatures of the land, shifting from one animal to the next until reverting back to her known human form, motionless before them.

“Michael, can you do something?” Gentry asked, kneeling down, holding her head in his arms.

“We have never encountered something like this with Snowbird’s post-cognitive abilities. I am as much at a lost as you are Gentry.”

“I am fine, Michael,” she said, her voice no louder then a whisper. “I do not need your concern now”

“At least we know what the intruder looks like,” Proctor said, unfazed by the event, his arms folded over his chest with no evident emotion.

“I may have aided in that process, Coordinator Proctor, but my vision of what happened here may have opened another dilemma,” she said ominously.

“What do you mean, Narya?” Shaman asked, helping the woman he raised like a daughter to her feet.

“In my momentary display of weakness with the intruder, I still saw what he did,” still visibly showing the effects of her post-cognitive backlash.

“He downloaded a program. It was named…the Hudson files.”

James Hudson could hear the clatter which persisted outside the door. He couldn’t stop the source even if he wanted too; the Epsilon Guards were ordered to search the facility and would do so for days if ordered. It bothered him no more as he became lost in thought hours ago. It was the isolation from everything that he sought and once he saw the search party leave his office, he knew only a handful of people would know where to find him.

“What are you looking at?” Heather Hudson asked, perching herself upon the entrance as she entered.

“Some old photos,” James answered, his eyes never diverting from the picture he was mentioning.

Heather calmly walked toward her husband, taking a glance of the photo in his hand. “This is from our wedding. It was just you, me and Logan back then.”

“That it was.”

“You two look so happy back then,” Heather said, herself reminiscing of that day as the three of them posed for the picture.

“The picture was taken before Logan caught the bouquet though,” James said with a half-hearted chuckle.

“James—” Heather uttered, unable to finish her sentence, sensing the emotional pain emanating from her husband.

“I’m as fine as can be, Heather,” James replied softly, his eyes still unable to look at her.

“That’s not saying much.”

An uncanny quiet filled the room as James felt the pain inside him digging deeper within. He wanted to tell his wife, but fear was the matter that prevented him from doing so. Finally, he looked directly into her green eyes as the words he sought were voiced with ease and uncertainty.

“I was reflecting on all the questionable decisions I made since helping form Department H. In my haste to put together a super powered team for Canada, I made some pretty bad calls in the past. One would say I signed my soul to the devil. I think the devil may be finally here to collect his prize.”

“You can’t say that, James. You don’t know what is on that file,” Heather remarked, knowing what he was referring too.

“You remember Bedlam?” He asked calmly.

“What…” Heather replied, the mere mention of the name shocked her. She wondered what her husband was trying to get at by mentioning the monstrosity he experimented with when Department H first launched.

“Do you remember Bedlam?” James asked more assertively, his tone almost violent in nature.

“Yes,” she stammered.

“I created that beast, Heather. I put my judgment aside to create that thing for the defense of Canada. I gave a convicted felon powers and expected him to do good,” he said, slamming his fist into the wall. “I was blinded by my own ambition, and he eventually escaped and attacked Alpha Flight.”

“Alpha Flight defeated Bedlam. It was a mistake.”

“That’s what Logan said back then,” James replied, looking at the photo of his deceased friend once more. “How many other mistakes do I have to make until it is enough.”

“I don’t see many other mistakes. You gave second chances to people that needed them and the world is a better place because of it.”

“You think so, huh”

“You believe in people, James. It’s time you believe in yourself on this one.”

Prometheus Division

Puck and Mr. Jeffries felt the gush of air hit their face as the elevator doors pushed open. The diminutive Puck exited first, his eyes focused as his head swiveled looking for someone. He stood firm in his position, his wide shoulders and solid mass causing people to navigate around the rooted Alphan.

Jeffries followed closely, his face less apparent with determination then his colleague. He stood grinning, humored by the fact the crowd of workers parted from his friend’s appearance. He preceded down the hall, quickening his pace as he saw Puck dart rapidly toward a dark short haired female a few paces ahead of them.

“Myra, may I have a word with you,” Puck called out.

Hastily moving down the corridor, Dr. Haddock barely turned her head to the two Alphans. A bead of sweat seem to appear on her brow as Puck and Mr. Jeffries picked up their pace to keep up with the project director.

“Not now, Judd. The whole damn Department is on alert. Every crack and crevice is being searched. I can assure you Prometheus Division is being turned upside down to find any leaks.”

Puck smiled, “So you haven’t discovered any yet, eh?”

“At this current moment? No. Though I don’t see the point since the Director had access to all our files,” she replied, swiping her security badge to get through a locked hallway.

“Then you have nothing missing that shouldn’t be?” Mr. Jeffries asked, amazed at the massive inventory they happened to witness.

“Prometheus Division specializes in technology development and acquisitions,” Dr. Haddock stated, finally stopping to look at the two visitors. “I would not be the department head if certain stuff was left unaccounted for. Why are you two down here questioning me anyways? I hear there is a pretty big rumor regarding a certain individual on your team.”

The remark left the Alphans speechless as the exposure of the Hudson files had evidently spread throughout the Department. Dr Haddock looked at the two waiting for some remark but heard none.

“I thought so. Let me handle what I’m paid to do and when I get time we can compare who has the bigger pair out of the three of us,” she suggested, waving at the two as she attended another party in the room.

“What do you think about the whole situation, Gene?” Jeffries asked as the metal doors locked in front of them.

“Which part?” Puck asked, heading back in the direction they came. “You referring to our headquarters being infiltrated or the mysterious file named after the man that made this whole program possible?”

“I’m talking about the latter,” Madison replied, knowing his long time pocket-sized team mate to expect a truthful response.

Puck grinned at the prospect, revealing denial. “Damn, I was hoping you weren’t”

“You think it’s that bad?”

“I don’t think it’s a file concerning Jimbo’s homemade soup, eh. Mac is a smart guy, maybe too smart. The fact that Department H had a file named after him is not good with anyone who has felt the dark side of the previous regime.”

“How do you think Heather is taking it?” Madison asked, stopping suddenly as a figure darted from the corner of his eye.

Puck figured the subject of the woman they both had strong feelings for in the past would be asked by the man who almost married her. “Heather is a strong woman. She’s a survivor. We both know that first hand. We stick together like we always have and hopefully we will see this one through as well.”

Puck’s words barely registered as Madison gazed down an adjacent corridor. There was a compelling familiarity to what was on the other end of the wing. It was a sense of deja vu that he tried to shake but a faint image of a dark haired woman suddenly grazed his thoughts then disappeared.

“Madison…” Puck uttered, retracing back to get the transmutator’s attention. “You see something?”

“No…it was nothing.”

Med Lab

“All this lunacy is getting out of control,” Proctor barked, his face showing his foul mood. He was none too pleased with the security breach, snapping at everyone that crossed his path since lockdown protocol was initiated, the Epsilons guarding a glass paneled room no exception for his rage.

Gentry simply agreed, not wanting to carry a debate. His appearance stood more resolute then his counterpart but the magnitude of the events were wearing heavily on him as well. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out his access card, flashing it toward the Epsilons as he smiled while the glass door opened.

“You got something useful, Dr. Krypt?” Proctor asked.

The doctor nodded, being the lone man in the room, he gestured the two department heads with a raised finger as he turned, saying nothing as he guided them to the back of the room. Pushing aside a pair of swinging doors, he directed them inward as his harsh voice finally spoke.

“I wouldn’t have called for you if I didn’t.”

The stale air of the room was easily detected upon entering as they were both momentarily blinded by the immense light beyond the doors. With crunched noses and focusing eyes, the intent of the room was quickly ascertained by the two. The room was filled with levels of stainless steel hinged doors as any curiosity of what was behind them quickly shifted to a lone figure in the center of the room. The doctor took position next to the metal slab, slowly peeling back the white shroud which covered the corpse.

“It’s the Director’s body,” Proctor declared.

Dr. Krypt smiled at the assumption. “No it isn’t.”

“You care to clarify,” Gentry replied.

Dr. Krypt continued to smile, prepared to share the revelation he had just uncovered only an hour ago. “It’s an artificial representation. A clone. A damn good one to boot, but with a few easy to pickup flaws within its molecular structure.”

“Why would the Director leave a flawed clone?” Proctor asked, visibly intrigued by the revelation. “He has access to all previous technology under Department H to build a clone and no one know the difference.”

Gentry stood quietly, perplexed much like the others, his eyes glancing over the motionless corpse in front of them. It looked like the Director but upon further examination, it just opened more questions then before. Random possibilities raced across Gentry’s thoughts until a strange sensation forced him upon the corpse’s pale hand.

He raised the cold limb for closer examination, feeling he was missing something; something that he should be noticing. He rotated the hand carefully as the glare of his wedding band reflected into his eyes. It was then Gentry stopped, pieces of the mystery slowly piecing together in his mind.

“He’s leaving clues.”

“What?” Proctor asked.

“The clone didn’t have the Director’s serpent ring on its finger when we found him,” he said with disgust for not seeing the discrepancy earlier. “He always had that thing on. Now we discover that he left a few flawed chromosomes for us to find. He knew something we didn’t.”

Proctor nodded, concurring with Gentry’s suggestion.

“Then…what the hell happened to the real Director?”

Hours Later

The room was dark and silent, only dull lit candles near the entrance door greeted the arrival. He walked with purpose, approaching the center of the room as hundreds of candles circled the room which guided his path. Darkness encased certain corners of the room but he feared not the unseen, instead bowing on one knee, his head became parallel to the floor as it nearly touched it. With a tone of reverence, he spoke.

“I have done what you commanded, my lord.”

A voice echoed from the darkness, “As usual, you have done what I have expected.”

Pleased by the response, he extends his services to accommodate his master. “May I ask what you have me do next?”

A towering figure draped in random colors of silk garb appeared from the shadows, walking with a regal manner, back straight; head up, until he stood at the foot of his servant. His cold ringed hand raised his servant’s head upward, revealing the only face he had known of his master, a metal mask only revealing the depths in his eyes. It was a relic from a different time and place, yet it glistened as it was just molded.

“Be patient, Daken. Department H has felt our opening salvo and lacks direction of what to do. We have stolen their darkest secrets and in our actions, we will fracture their foundation. We have instilled doubt in our enemy and in that; we have claimed the first battle of many. Rejoice and rest easy, for tomorrow brings the spoils of our labor.”