Metacore

Order of Business Part 1

Germany- 12:43pm

Sheer terror would’ve been an understatement for what reflected in Diana Clark’s eyes. Her ordinary day was becoming distorted and twisted like the nightmare that stood mere inches away from her son. The creature with massive gorilla like arms was ten times the size of an average human male, eclipsing the small boy like a mountain would a passing cloud. Large veins pulsated and rippled beneath pale gray skin, its flesh straining in an effort to confine its abnormal girth much like its torn clothes. With Neanderthal-like facial features protruding grossly from its face, small sunken eyes glared down at the child as the creature turned at the sound of small footsteps on the Frostburg Bank’s marble floor.

“What do we have here,” asked the creature, with a deep voice as rough as sandpaper.

A scream lodged in Diana’s throat as see watched her son Michael being enveloped in the monsters enclosed hands. She looked throughout the small group of bank customers and employees now made hostages for anyone that would aid her. But her fear only increased as she looked into the horrified eyes of the twenty or so men and women lying face down on the ground around her. Diana closed her eyes as she looked at the five bodies lying in pools of their own blood, crushed with the same hands now holding her son.

“You thought you could sneak up on me, eh? You thought t’kill me didn’t ya,” the creature asked, peeking inside his massive hands.

“Mammoth put the child down,” a female voice commanded from the rear of the bank.

“I was only playing wit da boy, Shiva,” Mammoth growled!

“Not on my time fool! Do you think MetaCore will wait until you’re done playing peek-a-boo before they kill you? Put him down and get back into position,” the female voice commanded.

“Rush, you’ll make sure that idiot stays put...or I will!”

“You heard the lady Mammoth, put the rug rat down. Maybe we’ll let ya keep him when this is all over.”

With menacing yellow eyes hidden in the shadow of his over developed brow, Mammoth surveyed the hostages until he found eyes that met his. An attractive redhead in her mid-thirties peered back at him from the floor, unflinching. Mammoth didn’t consider himself a very intelligent man but he understood terror and the few things that overcame it; such as the love of a mother for her child. Without hesitation he tossed the small boy toward the woman, not concerned if she’d be able to catch him before he smacked against the hard marble floor. Hearing no thud behind him as he walked away he assumed she had.

Part 2

Major Odessa Snow watched uncontrolled mayhem swirl below him like a hurricane as the Citadel’s air transport, Sanctuary IV, approached the scene outside the Frostburg Global Bank. A crowd of civilians had gathered and appeared to be overwhelming the contingent of Global Security Police as they struggled to maintain some semblance of order. Global Security vehicles lined the street in front of the bank acting as both barriers and cover for security officers dressed in riot armor. A thirty-foot perimeter was formed around the bank to assure the safety of unauthorized personal and emergency vehicles. Behind the perimeter officers scrambled to carry out orders given to them by superiors as large robotic police golems kept onlookers at bay, which was proving to be no easy task from the looks of it. Both news crews and spectators alike were pressing forward to get, what Odessa assumed, was a better view of the bedlam that was taking place in front of them.

“Oblivion, should I set us down there?” Anthony James asked, pointing to what appeared to be a designated area behind the police blockade.

“Yeah, and be mindful of the crowd, we don’t need any unnecessary casualties,” Odessa said, rising from the co-pilot’s chair.

“Ion, double check the containment units and make sure the force fields are at maximum efficiency. I want this over as quickly as possible with no mistakes.”

“Gotcha, major, ”Anthony James nodded adjusting the controls and landing gear.

Turning Odessa proceeded through the automatic doors that separated the ####### and prep compartment of the aircraft. Inside the prep room Patricia Rovin levitated Indian-style above the deck of the ship using telekinesis. Jonathan Styles and Patricia’s twin sister Monica Rovin stood fine-tuning infiltration strategies at the ships tactical station as large holographic schematics of the banks interior flooded the compartment.

“If I could place you here, you’d be able to infiltrate the main floor undetected, Caliber ,” Monica Rovin stated, pointing toward a schematic projected above her.

“That air duct is too narrow, Nuance . Even if you could teleport me inside it, my movements would be too restricted,” Jonathan Styles explained.

“I need a clear view of my targets and enough room to access my arsenal.”

“You’ll enter from the underground security room as planed. I won’t risk any civilians being injured if you’re detected before we’re ready,” Oblivion interrupted.

“Okay people... time for clockwork.”

Slowly Sanctuary IV descended into the frenzy below. The rhythmic hum of its antigravity gyros and propulsion systems subsiding as the transports air intakes rotated and lowered from their housing underneath. A strong blast of compressed air parted the crowd near the descending transport as dust and debris battered them. The sounds of coughing and cursing made Police Chief Norman Galliard laugh as the transport descended quietly, hovering slightly off the ground.

Turning back toward the bank and reaching into the breast pocket of his uniform, Galliard retrieved a cigar and placed it in his mouth. Behind him he could hear the crowd begin to cheer and scream as if movie stars had just arrived outside some Hollywood screening.

“Glad you boys and girls could finally join us, ” Galliard announced lifting his voice above the animated crowd as he lit his cigar.

“Germany’s a long haul from the Citadel, Chief Galliard. A two hour arrival time seems reasonable enough,” Oblivion stated, approaching from behind.

Galliard didn’t need to turn to see the man that spoke or those that followed closely behind him. The MetaCore team was one of the Global Defense Agency’s most elite super powered units. Formed by the global government, these specially trained meta-humans policed all homo-superiors as well as handled situation too big for global security on the local level. And although Chief Galliard hated to admit it, situations on the planet were becoming increasingly harder to handle.

“What’s the status inside the bank at this time,” asked Oblivion.

“We’re not sure but we think we have three frea...assailants, maybe more. Casualties too, four of which might be plain-clothes security officers that were posted inside,” Galliard stated, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“All internal surveillance monitors and electrical devices within a twenty-foot radius of the bank have been deactivated. I can’t even get a probe droid close enough to access tactical alternatives. But now that you’re here maybe I can... ”

“MetaCore will take command at this time Chief Galliard. Have your men hold this perimeter and maintain crowd control, ”ordered Oblivion.

Irritated, Galliard turned and looked up at the large powerfully built six-foot-seven Defense Agency Officer. The dark hue of his skin and shaved head only served to enhance his South African features and remind Galliard of a walking bull with a goatee. The blue and gray MetaCore uniform with the small Global Defense symbol on its chest was flex armor made of thin woven steel fibers arranged in minute tessellated patterns. It was crafted to fit MetaCore operatives like a thicker second skin. Tailored like a wetsuit with short sleeves ending just above the elbow and a high collarless neck, it made the officer seem more powerful, not that he needed it. Gray fingerless gauntlets made of a thinner version of the flex armor was tucked under the sleeves as large gray armored boots completed the costume.

“My men and I don’t take orders from you soldier and we have a job to do as well, ” Galliard announced, watching the man fist clinching.

“Splendid, Chief Galliard, do your job. Just keep your men and this crowd out of my way. ”