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Authors: Jonathan Charles Bruce

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BOOK: Project Northwoods
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The hero took a few steps toward Ariana, but Aeschylus cut her off. “No one touches her.” It was not a request. The lieutenant looked back at Erich, who simply nodded. She backed off as the larger man walked further into the room. “What is this about? Surely home invasion is still a crime.”

“Unless the occupants are deemed to be threats to national security,” Erich said, studying the kitchen. “I am, as you are no doubt aware, the liaison between the Army and New York State heroes.”

“A position you secured by being Arbiter’s one-time rent boy,” Aeschylus growled. Ariana wanted to scold him for his flippant attitude, but she dared not. Erich had her attention with his slow, subtly menacing movements.

“Cute,” Erich said. “Seeing as I was the only remaining member of the Army sidekick venture not to be reclassified as a hero, it only made sense.” He held up his black gloved hand. “And we all know why that happened.”

“I still need to know why you’re here.”

“How rude of me.” Erich dug into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper which he threw on the table. “There. The legislation which grants heroes the right to…” He trailed off for a moment, thinking of the right words. “… Explore the homes of villains which have been deemed a danger to the safety of their community.”

Aeschylus laughed. “I haven’t been an active villain for years and my daughter works for a coffee shop.”


Was
working,” the man corrected snidely. “But, more to the point, you have been tutoring villains through your supposed fan club,” Erich said simply. “Have you not?”

Ariana felt her lip curl in anger.
Arthur…

Ignoring the question, Aeschylus pointed a finger at him. “All my designs and inventions are protected under the 1988 Armistice.”

“Which only qualifies for inactive villains…”

“I am inactive!”

“… Who do not offer support to candidates up for approval by the Super Villain Authorization Committee.” Erich had finished with a smile, which somehow made it all worse.

Aeschylus glared at him. “Where’s your proof?”

“Recently submitted design documents suggest your influence.”

Aeschylus swallowed, thinking carefully as he took deep breaths. “Until I see hard evidence, you need to get out of this house.”

Erich moved so quickly that Ariana didn’t even see her father get pulled away. But the man from the Army had latched onto him with his left hand, flipped him over head, and brought him down on the kitchen table. “We want your inventions!” Erich screamed in his face.

“Get off of him!” Ariana shouted, pushing herself off the kitchen counter. The knife flashed in her hand.

The Enforcer nearest to her cried out in warning. “Corporal Constantine!”

Erich turned to her as she brought the knife back to stab. He threw up his right hand as she jabbed, the blade ripping into the glove and continuing through the back. There was no shout of pain, no blood. Instead he merely glared at her. “Lieutenant Showers, would you be so kind?”

The female Enforcer yanked her away as Erich released Aeschylus and grabbed the knife handle, sliding it out of himself. He removed his glove, revealing five metal claws twitching where a hand should have been. Ariana was immediately sick at the sight. The scraps of flesh she could see had been burned beyond usefulness.

“Admiring your father’s handiwork?” he snarled as her eyes refused to leave his hand. “Scan her.” Showers, releasing her for a moment, produced a device which flashed in Ariana’s eye. She blinked away the residual light as Erich bade the lieutenant to give him the device. He read something off of it, smiling indignantly as he finished. “Pathetic. I would have expected more for all the problems your mother gave us.” He turned to Aeschylus, still squirming on the table. “You must be so proud.” In a flash, he was on Ariana, the sick metal fingers closing around her neck. The force with which he had slammed into her made the world go white for a moment, but regained her bearings just as he lifted her into the air. Her feet could barely scrape the ground, let alone afford her leverage.

“Corporal, what are…” Showers began. Erich threw his hand up to silence her.

“Zealot, let her go!” Aeschylus shouted as he rolled to his side. He tried to get upright, but he must have still been dazed from being slammed into the table and collapsed to the ground.

“Zealot…” Erich seemed to be testing the word, rolling it on his tongue. “Named for my devotion to duty.” He turned to look at Aeschylus. One of the Enforcers was helping him to his feet in a display of sympathy. “A name you stole from me. When you took my hands… you took my dreams.”

Aeschylus shoved the Enforcer away. “I gave you the means to fight Iron Curtain, the means to be a hero… then… you and Arbiter killed my wife!”

“It was the game she played,” Erich said, turning back to Ariana. It was clear she was losing her grasp on consciousness. “Losing just held fatal consequences.”

“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” Aeschylus said, staggering. He grabbed onto the kitchen counter to support himself. “Rigged your damn gauntlets to take out the rest of your crippled ass.” He was trying to turn Erich’s attention back to him, even if there was no way he could win in a straight fight.

Erich’s eyes didn’t stray from his victim. “You better hurry. I can feel her life… slipping away.” His tonality betrayed his enjoyment. He couldn’t feel anything with those cold mechanical hands, but the small smile on his face seemed to prove otherwise. “It’s like… history is repeating itself… she even looks just like her.” He cast a look at the old man, his eyes gleaming with perverted excitement. “Of course, you can change the outcome of this story.”

Ariana squinted at her father and choked out, “Don’t…”

Aeschylus glared at him, then his head fell. “The basement. There’s a safe in the far corner… behind the bookshelf. The combination…” He shivered as he took a breath. “Five, twenty-seven, eighty-eight.” Erich motioned with his head to the Enforcers, the nameless two vanishing further into the house. “Please… let her go.”

Erich dropped her. Ariana fell to the floor into a heap, gulping air. “May twenty-seventh, 1988…” The man reached into his trench coat and pulled something unseen out from an internal pocket. “It’s interesting how we hold tragedy close to our hearts.” He walked toward the door leading to the rest of the house.

Aeschylus fell to the floor and clambered toward Ariana. The thin metal fingers had left red trails along her neck, two of which glistened with slender trails of blood. Her eyes were glazed and wandering, but she was still alive. “I’m so sorry, Ari…” He gathered her into his arms.

The tromping of boots up stairs preceded the Enforcers returning with a metal case. “We have secured the plans, sir.”

“Excellent.” Erich grabbed the case from them. “Zip-tie Inventor. Take them to the cars. We’ll radio Arbiter from the road.” With his other hand, he shook the auto-syringe he had taken from his pocket. Blue liquid inside of it glowed faintly as he jammed the needle into his neck. With a hiss, the liquid shot into his veins.

The effect was instantaneous. Involuntary spasms wracked his form, and he seemed to be in intense agony for a second. His back arched, his shoulders snapped back, and he stared at the ceiling. Then, he twisted his head slowly, unleashing a terrible crack, and he relaxed. “Tell your daughter everything will be alright,” he said dreamily. The effect was ethereal, ghostly, like he never had a violent impulse in his life. At the same time, there was something malevolent despite the sudden calm tone: a calculated and controlled measure of fury. “Lie to her.”

Erich led the way as Lieutenant Showers hefted Aeschylus to his feet while another Enforcer gathered Ariana in his arms. The lieutenant bound the man’s hands together and guided him out of his house. Once outside, Erich and the unoccupied officer went to the lead of three vehicles. The corporal walked as though in a trance, careful and dreamy, full of violence and peace all at once. The excited, childlike quality he had exhibited when strangling Ariana had vanished in favor of that…
thing
walking across the lawn.

Showers led Aeschylus to the second vehicle as Ariana was carried to the last. Aeschylus fought against his captor. “Ariana, no!”

Ariana hung loosely in the arms of the Enforcer. Another got out of the vehicle and opened the rear door so she could slide the stunned woman across the seat. Aeschylus fought harder at the sight, when his Enforcer pulled him close. “Listen,” Showers began, “it’s no use fighting. She’ll be alright, trust me.” They reached the car.

“Trust you? After what happened in there?” Aeschylus turned toward the Enforcer as the rear door of the vehicle opened. All down the street, doors and windows bearing prying eyes opened.

“If you don’t calm down, sir, we will subdue you,” came the warning. In front of Aeschylus, the car bearing Erich turned over its engine and slowly drove down the street. The Enforcer in front of him looked around at the people now stepping into the street to get a better look. “Damn,” the woman grunted.

“Let me go with my daughter…” Aeschylus was only dimly aware that they had an audience. “Lieutenant Showers, please…”

The Enforcer looked at him impatiently, then motioned to the rear vehicle. “Hudgeon, take him,” Showers yelled.

A pair of hands grabbed Aeschylus from behind and started dragging him toward his daughter. “Thank you,” he croaked to the one who had taken him outside.

But the woman was clicking her earpiece as her eyes darted about, moving from onlooker to onlooker. She was saying something in code to the listener on the other end: “Sector thirteen. Possible Violent Whiskeys. Immediate blackout requested. Awaiting Darkest Night initiation. Over.” As Aeschylus was crammed into the car, villains were approaching their vehicles, some asking questions, other merely watching intently. Then, with the pop of a power outage, the world went black. There were screams, and only the pale light of the moon illuminated the descendant panic.

June 24
th
, 2011

Early Morning

Arthur was still stunned when he returned to the apartment. Without a word, he joined Tim and James in the living room as they watched television. Talia emerged eventually. Tim switched to the news an hour before he retreated to the bedroom. It didn’t seem like any of them were too shocked by what they heard. It was much the same information repeated every ten to fifteen minutes. Talia, Marsh, Severson, Zombress, the hint of a growing conspiracy. James eventually fell asleep sitting up. Tim retired with an angry huff. Talia, with nothing else to really do, went to take a shower.

With a click, Arthur muted the television, captions filling in the flapping gums. The printed words were much less frightening than the blatantly hostile tones of the various talking heads. Something panged inside his gut, and he stood and went into his room. Talia hadn’t done much, save open a few books and the blinds.

“Hey, Mollie,” he said quietly.

“Good evening, Arthur.”

He couldn’t think of much to say. “How are the files coming?”

“They are pretty badly damaged. Ninety percent data loss. But what are you going to do, eh?” The casual ‘eh’ at the end sounded more like a hiccup than anything intentional. Arthur would have smiled had everything not sucked so profoundly.

“Come on,” he said as he unhooked the wired components. “You’re going to keep me company.” Hefting the computer, he took Mollie into the living room.

“I will have to bill you for this,” Mollie sighed, her way of saying she was working on something important and didn’t wish to be bothered.

Arthur shook his head as he set her on the table. “No, you won’t.” He adjusted the screen so he could view it comfortably while leaning back. “Just want to watch a slide show.”

“I see,” came the hummed reply. “Feeling nostalgic?” Arthur nodded. “I will leave you to it.”

He leaned back as pictures faded into and then out of existence on the screen. Most of the pictures had been taken at his father’s family estate in Pennsylvania, the old trees and ancient house providing an antiquated look to the photos. Arthur and his mother. His entire family, the infant Julia held in his arms. His father and mother. His mother vanished entirely from the photographs after this one, replaced by a growing Julia and himself. And, of course, an incredibly dour looking Dante. Another snapshot of him and Julia, older. Julia dressed as a cowgirl for Halloween. Him, alone, on a swing. As more photos passed, Arthur found himself growing scarcer. The final picture, taken in the city, was of his sister and father looking decidedly happy.

Decidedly happy without him there.

“Three a.m. and you’re still up.” The Russian accent was surprisingly soft, so much so that Arthur wasn’t even startled to hear it. From the sound of it, she was watching him from sitting at the kitchen counter.

He could help but feel a little self-conscious. “Couldn’t sleep. You know… what with the living with a felon thing.”

“I’d apologize, but you’re technically on the lam, too.”

“Ah, yes,” Arthur began. “But they don’t know it, yet.” He cast a look back at her. An old white robe clung to her body, and the only hint of her shower was the dampness of her hair. Other than that, she looked stunning. Arthur felt immediately embarrassed by what was no doubt being interpreted as staring. “Sorry about the robe. It’s the only one I have.”

BOOK: Project Northwoods
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