The Break (The Aesir Saga Book 1)

THE

BREAK

For Tiana,

I’m lost without you

The world was changing, and people were scared.

The downward spiral of society was not a sudden one. It was subtle, with the good intentions and the effort of many well-meaning people. Terrorism was at an all-time high, spreading gun violence, and a new disease growing exponentially. People had reached their breaking point; many would give anything just to feel safe again. New politicians emerged, promising a path to safety and the prosperous return of the economy, and they delivered. Curfews were put in place to help stop the spread of the virus and domestic terrorism. Those who violated the laws were strictly punished. Even with the new countermeasures, the disease continued its growth. Cities believed to be infected were quarantined off and left to die. The people were told to watch their neighbors, and encouraged to report any abnormal or subversive activities.  

The first time news broke about people with powers, everyone cheered. This was the dawn of a new age, and everyone believed they would be living in a world of super heroes. With more people developing abilities, the government capitalized on it and began developing a team that could both fight terrorism and create a positive image for the government. The first weaponized group was created by the United States, forming them into a strike team called the Aesir, named after a group of Norse gods. The United States government were not alone in their race to acquire and train these individuals. Soon, throughout the world people were developing powers, many of them using their new abilities to kill and enslave. The public became worried that all Aesir were dangerous, the outcry became so large, the government scrapped the project, and instead focused on developing ways to track down, contain, and study those who developed powers. 

Those that had been part of the Aesir project felt that they were being unfairly labeled. They saw the government as the real problem, using the fear mongering as evidence that the government was unfit to lead. The strike team attacked and occupied the Capital, causing destruction before they were finally killed. This was the death knell of the old Republic. After the destruction by the Aesir strike team, a new capital was created on the west coast, and a provisional government was setup to serve as the governing body until a more permanent system could be established. Soon, this twelve member council became a permanent fixture known as the New Governmental Council.

TWO

Gabriel was on his way home from Amber’s house, they had been dating for six months and they were going to celebrate tonight. The night had started off pretty well; he brought her a necklace, nothing fancy, he didn’t have a job so he had to rely on his parents giving him money. Amber made dinner, some kind of small chicken, and after dinner they went to her bedroom. Her parents were gone for the night, so they had a little alone time.  She had gotten him a solid metal bracelet with their names etched into it in fancy writing and a design of tribal looking lines. She seemed happy when he put it on and the design was starting to grow on him.  They had just started kissing when they heard her parents’ sedan pulled up, the sound of the engine dying off and the car doors opening. 

“Oh my god, they can’t find you here.” She said panicking

Gabriel was already grabbing his bag and opening the window. “Don’t worry baby, I’m already gone.” He turned, kissed her one more time and hopped out the window, sliding down the gutter.

The curfew was already in effect when he left her house, but he knew when he made these plans he would have to chance it. Amber's parents were involved in the local council, so they were granted more freedom of movement than an ordinary citizen like Gabriel. He had broken the curfew before, and like most teens his age, he knew the keys to avoid detection. He had grown up his whole life with the curfews, only knowing they had been put in place to combat terrorism. But when the people began developing super human abilities, terrorism evolved from the sneaking around to open combat. Even with that change, the curfews stuck around, becoming something that people got used to, and didn’t worry about. 

He always ran parallel to the road, off in the bushes, only having to cross the street twice.  On the second cross they saw him. The Government police were responsible for the security of the roads. Anyone caught after curfew would be detained, questioned, and then punished, usually depending on their social status, or the status of their parents.

Occasionally someone would be picked up, and never heard from again. The local news would then run a story on them, labeling them as a terrorist or subversive individual, and reporting that they had to be removed for the protection of the people in the community. The Aesir had originally been designed to be the NGC's response to the terrorism problem. Why not use super humans to fight against the extremists?

The program fell apart when people who were not as principled in the “right ways” started developing powers. As a way to avoid association with the deplorable acts of super human “maniacs”, the NGC began rounding up people who had developed abilities, and removed them from society. 

Gabriel began to sweat as the police car sped up to him, the dark of the night being disrupted by the red and blue rotating lights. He had stopped in the middle of the road, thinking it better to surrender than try and outrun them. The car slowed to a stop, both doors opening, and two officers stepped out, one already with his gun drawn. 

The driver's side officer stepped around to the front of the car, his flashlight blinding Gabriel.

“What are you doing out here son?” He asked, walking closer as he spoke, stopping once he was right next to Gabriel. 

“I’m sorry officer, I was at my girlfriend’s house and lost track of time.” Even though he was blinded by the flashlight, Gabriel still felt the gun pointed at him, feeling sweat roll down his neck and back. 

“Well looks like you just bought yourself a couple hours of alone time. Let’s go son.” He grabbed Gabriel by the bicep, pulling him toward the car. The other officer put his gun away and stepped to the back door, preparing the car for their latest pick up.

Gabriel was starting to get nervous now, he knew he was not supposed to be out, and finding out that he had done it to see Amber would not make his parents any happier. If they took him in for breaking curfew his parents would kill him. “Sir, isn’t there some way we could work this out? Maybe a warning or something? I swear I will never be out again after curfew.”

The officer said nothing, bringing him closer to the car.

“Please sir? Anything? I can’t be taken in; my parents don’t even know I’m out tonight!”

“You break the law and we take you in kid, those are the rules.”

They approached the rear of the car; the officer shoved Gabriel toward the back seat. “Get in kid, we’ve got a shit ton of paperwork to do now, thanks to you.” He pushed Gabriel again, this time slamming him into the door frame. Gabriel put his hands on the outside of the car, pushing himself away from the door. 

“Come on man, can’t we just talk about this a minute?” He heard the officers draw guns; looking over his shoulder he saw they were Tasers. 

“In the car kid, NOW!”

              Gabriel took his hands off the car, letting out a defeated sigh. “This is fucking bullshit!” He said as he raised his arms in the air before slamming his fists down on the roof of car to emphasize his point. 

The police car exploded into a huge fireball, the force throwing Gabriel off the street and into a nearby ditch. He was partially blinded from the flash of the explosion, but as Gabriel’s vision returned, he couldn’t see any signs of the two officers.

Checking his body, he couldn’t find any evidence that he had been injured, but his clothes were burned in a few spots. Gabriel got up, brushing the dirt off his hands, he took in the damage around him. The remains of the police car lay around the street, flames dancing off the wreckage. He had to leave, somehow the car had exploded, and he wasn’t interested in finding out who or what had caused it. In the two seconds it took for him to process what he was seeing, his train of thought was shattered by the sound of sirens.

Gabriel sprinted down the street, his backpack shifting left and right. The night was lit by the streetlamps and the inferno that minutes prior had been a police car that continued to burn in the middle of the street. Gabriel’s mind was racing as he took the left onto the road that took him home. Seeing the camera on the streetlight, he reached back, pulling his hood up to cover his face. Blue and red lights could be seen coming from the end of the next street, giving Gabriel enough time to duck into the shadows of a nearby porch.

He tried to catch his breath as the police car flew by. Just as he was about to step out from his hiding place, another turned onto the street, this one without its lights flashing. Gabriel backed himself as far into the shadow as he could. The car was going slow, clearly looking for something on the road.

A spotlight shone from the car window, jumping around from one group of shadows to the next. Gabriel franticly looked around for something to hide under, anything would do at this point so he wouldn’t be seen. Looking behind him, there was a tiny gap between the porch and the ground. Not knowing what was under there, and at this point not even caring, he dropped flat to his stomach, sliding first his legs, then the rest of his body into the tiny space. From his spot he could see the light dance over where he had just been seconds before.

The police car continued its slow progress down the street before turning and proceeding onto the next, continuing its search. Gabriel thought about getting out and running for the safety of his house, but he didn’t know how many police were looking for him. Instead, he chose to stay under the porch, waiting for the excitement to die down.

              It was two in the morning when he was finally able to reach his house. He went through the gate to the backyard, hopped onto the trashcan, vaulting himself to the tree branch above it, pulling himself into his open window. He dropped his bag and threw his sweatshirt onto his computer chair before collapsing onto his bed.             

He lay in his bed, his mind racing as he tried to figure everything out.  Gabriel finally slipped away into sleep, still dressed in his burnt clothes.

Chris Williams walked through the double doors of the Special Investigations building nine, called SI9 by everyone that worked there. He was dressed in his standard three piece suit, this one a charcoal grey. The dress code was business casual, but Williams always dressed this way. The question was whether he dressed this way because he wanted to, or if he felt pressure due to his lineage. His wardrobe was almost as well-known as his reputation, being one of the top agents since SI9 was founded, and had been team leader for the apprehension of over four hundred Aesir.   

He cleared security, passing through the clean hallways, designed to have the pristine white look of a hospital. Williams moved to the one place he felt at home, his office and tactical staging area. There were fourteen response teams, each consisting of the team leader and project manager, COSMOS pilot, and an Aesir with a noncombat related ability. The basic breakdown of each team was the same, but the duties that each team member took on were as unique as the people on them. Williams' staging area was no bigger than an average classroom, but every inch of the room was used. The front wall was painted white and left blank intentionally. This was used for the computer, with the screen projected onto its surface. Unless an active mission was underway, the computer piped in live news broadcasts from around the country. The teams did not have a set area they worked in, so it was first come, first serve when news of an Aesir broke.  

Set in front of the computer wall were two desks, each a clear representation of the owner. Williams' desk was spotless, everything neatly placed, giving off the feeling of the owner’s obsessive compulsive nature. The other stood in stark contrast to its neighbor. Small stacks of papers littered its top, with a few electronics in various stages of deconstruction. Seated at the pile of disorder was Williams' oldest friend Kyle Peters. Kyle was the team’s Aesir, and had been paired with Williams since the founding of SI9. Kyle's ability was the capacity to understand how any mechanical object worked by looking at. While it was not the greatest of special powers, it was enough to make him a valuable asset to the team, yet not formidable enough to make him a target for collection. Hunched over in his chair, Kyle was wearing his usual jeans and polo shirt. His olive skin give him the look of a constant tan, his brown hair kept not too long and not to short. 

"What did you break this time?" Williams said, sliding onto Kyle's desk, moving one of the paper stacks. 

"It's not broken, it’s a servo from the mech, and I am trying to get more output power from a smaller input." Kyle answered without his gaze leaving the project.  

“What’s going on there?” Williams said as he pointed to the screen.

Kyle looked up, moving his chair back as he did, his feet naturally coming up to rest on the top of the desk. In the final move of assuming his thinking position, Kyle grabbed a blue racquet ball and began passing it from hand to hand.

“So, small town Washington, two cops don’t check in with dispatch. They send another unit over, find the car burned to the frame. Both cops are dead, burnt pretty bad. But here is the interesting part; they are found outside the car, and not just right outside, but thrown a couple feet from the wreckage.”

Williams closed his eyes as he ran his hand through his hair, stopping at the at the back of his head to scratch while he went over the information he was just given. “Why were they outside the car?”

“They had called in a curfew breaker, and never called in after that. That only means one thing to me.” Kyle said, pointing to the back of the room as the rear door opened.

“Their curfew breaker is an Aesir.”  Marcus Dillinger walked into the office. Marcus was a large black man, built like a linebacker. As the team’s COSMOS pilot, he needed a higher level of stamina than the other team members, which meant he was the only team member using the department’s gym. His job was also the most dangerous, having to be the one to actually apprehend the Aesir in question. This tended to sway his judgment when dealing with the Aesir, leaning toward an overly aggressive approach. 

              Kyle threw the racquet ball to Marcus.

“Looks like you’re antsy to get back in the Maiden.”

“I live for that thing baby.” He caught the ball effortlessly and threw it back to Kyle.

The Maiden was the name Marcus had given to his mech. The official name for it was the Containment and Security Mechanically Operated Suit, or COSMOS for short. None of the pilots ever used that name, preferring to come up with their own.  Each pilot was given the option to customize their rig to their own liking, and all of them did, almost to an extreme. The Maiden stood ten feet tall, and like all COSMOS platforms, was in the shape of a human form. The common belief held by the pilots was to paint their armored suits in intimidating fashions, like the tribal war paint of a Maori warrior or a WWII fighter plane. Marcus had chosen a much more psychological approach than the other pilots. The Maiden was painted a flat grey, making it look almost like a statue. The standard face shield was upgraded with a metal hood, which obscured the face completely, giving the effect of looking into the void. Angelic wings were attached to the back, and the overall body was styled to look like plate armor being worn. All of these choices were purely cosmetic, but Marcus believed that if you wanted to hunt "gods" you needed to raise yourself to their level.

“Let's not jump to conclusions," Williams said, bringing the conversation back to the news report. "We don’t know what it was.”

“Come on boss,” Marcus said, taking the open chair from Williams’ desk. “You know nobody is going to do anything to a police car unless it’s one of those Aesir terrorist groups.”
 

Williams closed his eyes. Marcus had a point, no local citizen would do anything that could draw this kind of attention to themselves, then there was the call in of the curfew breaker. Which means there was at least one other person there. What if this was all a setup?

Williams opened his eyes and looked to Kyle. “What’s active up in that area?”

                                          Kyle was already typing away at his computer, knowing that Williams would be asking for more information. “Looks like we have almost nothing, but there have been attacks that were attributed to a local Spartan group. No information on how local though.”              

The Agency frowned upon the “Spartan” code name the capture teams had given to the extremist Aesir. SI9 was unsure how they were able to sustain themselves, but knew that they took supplies and files from the NGC and Agency buildings they targeted. While their attacks did interrupt some functions, they were deemed strategic failures. Their last attempt ended with ten Aesir being apprehended, which left their known numbers greatly reduced.

The Spartans main problem was their lack of leadership. Each splinter group fought on their own, picking their targets locally. This helped to keep them from being captured, but made their attacks seem random and inconsistent. Even with their abilities, they seemed to operate on a one man army mentality, often fighting when they should run. The term group was used loosely, with only a few known accounts of the Aesir operating together.

“Alright, send some feelers out to the local PD, and reserve the safe house in Seattle. I’ll let the chief know we are taking this one, hopefully no one else has put two and two together. Marcus, get the suit prepped, I want it operational as soon as we touch down.”

“Kyle, get the plane ready, we’re going to Washington.”