Metacore #4

To Serve and Protect by Mark Anthony

CITADEL III- Antarctica 6:40AM-War Room

"So you're saying, the Frostburg Bank and the hover-tram explosions in Neo Germany...weren't terrorist attacks?"

"What I'm saying is none of it adds up Kathryn. Those so called terrorist weren't trying to make political statements, they were just psychopaths getting their powers off," Odessa said putting his fist through yet another skirmish drone.

It had been the tenth of its kind in a series of examinations designed to tax his strength. Each new robot was crafted to be more resilient than the next. The bulky ape like androids used an AI chip that allowed them to learn from their predecessors as well as deduce the best tactical responds in any given combat situation. Number ten had assaulted Odessa with vicious melee attacks intended to keep him off balance until number eleven and twelve could circle around subduing him from behind. The attempt was admirable Odessa thought, although ill fated considering his meta-human strength and speed. Withdrawing his fist from the androids' chest Odessa softly pushed over the remains watching them topple to the floor.

"I haven't even broken a decent sweat yet. You better boost the power level on these things or we'll be here all day Kat."

"That's the whole point. I need to gage the growth of your power exponentially to determine its effects on your psyche. Particularly as it pertains to your aggressiveness in combat," Doctor Kathryn Konakolva explained. Sighing she punched data into a computer terminal reprogramming another series of drones from the rooms' control center high above the battle chamber.

Dr. Kathryn Konakolva was Citadel IIIs' head of psychology and neurology as well as MetaCores' psychoanalyst. She was attractive, but not a glamorous beautiful like some supermodel or movie star. It was more intellectually subtle, like a Freudian librarian in some school boy fantasy. Her short dark brown hair, long white lab coat and thin-rimmed glasses only added to the appearance of a seriously professional doctor. But in truth she was a seasoned soldier and meta-human herself with the ability to cast illusions in the minds of others using telepathy.

He's scarcely even thinking down there. It's as if every move he makes is no more than a reflex. Just some simple impulses his muscles have committed to memory some how, Kathryn thought. Her dark green eyes narrowing as she studied readouts of what she considered almost trivial increases in the alpha waves emitted from Odessa's brain. Let's see if this helps my cause any, she thought turning a dial on the control panel increasing the AI of each skirmish drone.

"The meta-human situation around the globe is growing increasingly unstable by the minute and I'm stuck playing lab rat," Odessa complained while executing a roundhouse kick that removed the head of the eleventh android.

He had planned for the force of his kick to carry through as he adjusted his body to bring his heel down into the chest of his twelfth attacker. The move itself would cleave the android in two finishing what Odessa hoped was the last of the exercises altogether. The androids responds to the slight shift of his body was almost instantaneous as it seized his ankle whipping him across the floor of the room.

"Are you trying to pick a fight with me, Major Snow," Kathryn inquired watching what had taken place below from the control centers' observation window, "If this is about your teams' psyche evaluation, I thought we agreed to disagree. "

"We did Doc...but under the circumstances I don't feel a restriction of duty was warranted," Odessa replied sliding on his back gouging the floor with his fingers to slow his momentum.

"Your team has been involved in fourteen out of thirty major operations in nine months, five of which at least two assailants have died. There psyche test show a raised level of stress and aggression with signs of fatigue. They shouldn't be on call. As your team psychiatrist it's my job to evaluate their mental readiness and report my findings...without exceptions."

"I understand...but that doesn't mean...I have to like it," Odessa said flipping to his feet and bracing himself to engage the charging battle droid, "If things continue to escalate globally my teams' focus will have t'be sharp. This restriction could dull their battle edge and cohesion in combat."

"That's what the War Room is designed to thwart isn't it? I'm not trying to hinder your teams' ability to do its job Major. But tell me, how effective will they be if their mental state is tattered from the stress of combat?"

"Kat, me knowing you're right doesn't remove the feeling that something big is on the horizon. Nevertheless it's your call, so I'll try to enjoy this...vacation," Odessa conceded punching through the twelfth android and ripping it in two.

NEO NEW YORK: 11:25AM

Jonathan Styles watched as a large black limo-transport came to a stop in front of the Purple Lotus Restaurant from an ATM across the street. Taking another drag from his cigarette he examined his surroundings as he calculated every possible angle of escape should it become necessary. The streets were crowded at this time of day; flooded with noises produced by hover trains overhead, transports moving along the streets and a vast number of people in addition to small bots traveling the sidewalks. This freakin' place is like one giant ant farm; Jonathan thought flicking his cigarette on the ground before smothering it beneath his shoe.

Adjusting his sunglasses Jonathan watched as an enormous man exited the limo across the street causing the hover transport to elevate a foot higher. His build was like that of a living mountain with arms and legs, all of which was wrapped, in a very expensive blue business suit with matching hat. Wow, this guy makes Oblivion look tame. Can't say I recognize his face from the GDA database, especially not with that lid on. Whatever his stick it's a given he's a meta human, level eight or nine would be my bet; Jonathan reasoned still studying the man as he watched him touch the collar of his jacket and speak into it.

"We're clear out here Famine, proceed," the large man said surveying the street.

The limo door opened once more as another man about Jonathan's height and build proceeded to exit the other side of the transport holding a small briefcase. He too was dressed in a similar blue suit like that of the larger man minus the matching hat. His features appeared almost feminine, and made more so by his long green hair he whore in a ponytail. The facial piercings that decorated his almost too perfect face did nothing to subtract from what Jonathan could only describe as a very good-looking mug.

"Feast, secure this position while I escort Mr. Snotgrass inside. Once we enter the restaurant allow no one access beyond this point, " the smaller man called Famine ordered moving around the back of the limo.

"Right this way Snotgrass, I believe you're the last guest to arrive," Feast said holding open the limo door.

Jonathan continued to watch the activities taking place across the street as he weaved in and out of traffic on his way to the Purple Lotus. An abnormally thin man had just exited the limo dressed in casual clothes holding a second larger briefcase. Quickly he was being ushered passed the larger bodyguard by the second smaller one into the restaurant. Approaching the limo Jonathan watched as the larger meta-human turned toward him eclipsing the entrance to the restaurant and blocking off a greater portion of the sidewalk.

"Fancy ride you got there, buddy," Jonathan jested making his way around the limo headed for the restaurant. "Excuse me pal, I've only got an hour for lunch and I'm starvin'."

"I'm sorry for any inconvenience but the Lotus is closed at this time. It's been rented out for the afternoon by a private party. Business will resume as usual after three o'clock, please return at that time," Feast stated in a calm overly polite tone.

"You ain't listenin' pal, I just told ya I got an hour for lunch. This place has the best sushi in this crummy city, now step aside," Jonathan stated adding a tone of frustration to his voice.

Jonathan watched the expression on the man's face remain calm giving no sign of the irritation he was sure the very large man was feeling at this point. Guy's a pro, no doubt about it. He's not going to cause a scene out in public over such a minor incident. I'll press'em a little more and see how he plays it, I don't want to raise his suspicions too high.

"Pal, I'm wastin' time here," Jonathan stated looking at his watch."My boss is goin' to bust my hump if I'm late comin' back from lunch again, and I work fifteen minutes away from this place."

"Very well, here's something for your trouble," Feast said reaching into his suit jacket pulling out a fifty dollar cred. "This should make up for your lost time and provide you with adequate compensation, wouldn't you say?"

Jonathan eagerly accepted the money placing it in his pocket without hesitation. Smart move, you're good, I'll give ya that. Any working stiff receiving fifty cred and preventing a possible hospital visit ain't complainin' about sushi no matter how good it is.

"Hey, thanks pal you're okay for such a big guy," Jonathan stated reaching up patting Feast on the arm.

Clever boy, he wanted to know what I was after and how bad I wanted it; Jonathan surmised walking away feeling the big man watching him. Entering a diner six doors down Jonathan took a seat in the back near the rear exit. After placing an order for coffee he removed a small hand held device from his inside suit jacket and activated it after flipping it open. The monitor located at the top of the device soon displayed the topical layout of the city before zooming in on Jonathan's present location. Pressing a small button marked T.S.L., the words " Tactical Surveillance Link ", appeared upon the screen followed by a map of the immediate surrounding area.

"Yeah, the piss ant wanted sushi. He acted like I was a freakin' waiter or somethin', " Jonathan heard the voice of the large bodyguard saying.

The small cell phone like devices' audio feed was directed through the communication device implanted in Jonathan's ear. A small red blip on its monitor indicated the precise location of the object tagged with a MetaCore tracking strobe. The strobe itself was microscopic and undetectable by most civilian surveillance devices used around the globe. An uplink to Core Watch I, the MetaCore orbital satellite, was able to feed and download requested surveillance data such as location, audio and video from the tracking strobe directly to the special hand held computer Jonathan set viewing. At this time the large meta-human named Feast unknowingly found himself wearing one such tracking strobe on the sleeve of his suit jacket.

"Neo New Yorkers, you've got to love'em no," Jonathan heard who he assumed was the smaller bodyguard saying. "Feast remain at your post, for what we're being paid a bruise to your ego is well worth it, wouldn't you say? Besides you know my temper, in all probability I would've disintegrated the poor smuck."

"Yeah whatever Famine, you're still givin' me the two hundred cred it took t'get rid of the guy."

"Two what?! You gave him two what...never mind! Feast we'll be exiting through the back when we leave. Have the limo parked and waiting in the alley at that time."

CITADEL III- Antarctica: 10:30AM

Monica Rovin slowly edged forward through the snow on her stomach like some artic snake. A mere twenty feet in the distance she could see the enemy's blue flag flapping over their stronghold back and forth in the ice-cold wind. Atop the ten-foot stronghold wall constructed of snow and ice in the shape of a medieval castle she saw her twin sister Patricia with an army of thirty or so children. The children were all teenagers dressed in artic gear engaging Monica's own army of adolescent girls and boys in a snowball war. She had managed to maneuver around the enemy's flank as her men made a frontal assault drawing their fire. Ha, and Caliber said I needed to work on my tactical awareness, Monica thought while positioning herself behind a snow bank opposite the enemy's camp.

"Okay sergeant, I'm in position now. I should be able to teleport inside their camp from here," Monica whispered becoming visible.

"Hurry Sir, Doc Rovin is firin' on us! She's throwing a hundred snowballs at once! I don't think we'll be able to keep this up for long," a shaky teenage voice echoed through Monica's comlink.

"Oh, she's such a liar, we agreed not t'use our powers. The first chance she gets and she reneges on the deal. You get a hold of yourself solider, I need you to buy me a little more time. You keep my sister distracted and we'll be inside the cafeteria drinkin' hot chocolate before you know it."

Peeking over the snow bank Monica focused on a site five feet from the pole securing the enemy's flag. With the sound of rushing wind she teleported from one location to the next. Maybe I should have my own MetaCore unit, this is almost too easy, Monica thought making herself invisible once more. Patricia should have had a small party of men guarding her flag. Maybe I'll tell her that once she realizes I have it.

Move stealthily around one of several stockpiles of snowballs located behind the enemy's flag pole Monica quickly checked her surroundings while watching Patricia's team standing atop the ice wall. A few feet to her left twenty smaller children around the ages of five and six made more ammo as they erected another stockpile. To her right she watched a massive stockpile of snowballs being dwindled down telekinetically as they rushed into the air over the heads of Patricia and her men atop the wall. What a jip, with her telekinesis she shouldn't even have an army; Monica thought approaching the flag pole.

( Well its obvious your abilities also come in handy Monica ), Monica heard the voice of Patricia say telepathically. ( Besides you broke our agreement first. )

Monica could hear the shifting of the large snowball stockpile behind her as she reached the flag pole. Without warning she felt the first of several snowballs at her back as they pelted her from behind. Diving to one side she turned toward the location she assumed her attackers would be to see a wall of snowballs rushing toward her. Not good, she thought becoming visible and instinctively teleporting. In an instant Monica found herself behind the wall of her own stronghold as she rematerialized.

"Sergeant, pull back the mission's a bust! Repeat, pull all the men back and regroup at the Ice Palace!"

"Yes sir, but what happened sir? I thought you said we'd..."

"I know what I said, but who knew my sister was such a warmongering liar!"

( Ha ha ha, It must run in the family, he ha ha), Patricia laughed telepathically.

NEO NEW YORK: 4:15PM

"If yous want mack, I could get closer."

"That want be necessary," Jonathan said glancing down at the MetaCore tracking device, "Just keep out of sight and if you don't get made there's a twenty cred tip in it for you."

"Got ya mack," the taxiport driver said giving a thumbs up to Jonathan.

The taxi driver was a large obese man in his mid forties give or take. His ability to handle the port was apparent as he weaved through rush hour traffic like a metallic black and white shark hunting prey. Remaining eight vehicles or so behind the limo-transport the driver positioned himself to the left of the limo keeping it in constant view. Jonathan watched as the red blip on the screen of the tracking computer flickered as it entered an area shaded in yellow on the map screen designated, "Private Sector".

"So what's the story mack? Your ol'lady givin' kisses to some rich corporate toad," the driver asked slowing the transport somewhat. "That limo looks like it's headed for the corporate district."

"Yeah it does, doesn't it? You just keep'em in sight and I'll up that tip to fifty cred."

The corporate sector of Neo New York was just one of several global municipalities owned and ran by corporations around the world. Small independent cities within a city to a great extant, they operated according to the dictates of the largest corporate body residing within the district. Neo New York's corporate sector was controlled by the Roma Corporation. The third largest medical and bioengineering conglomerate in the world, Roma Corp was known mostly for medical research. Over the years the global government adopted a hands off policy for a not so modest property tax and the use of advanced research in the field of biotechnology. Within these sectors some of the richest people on the globe resided, that being the case they had become some of the most secured places in the world.

/ I informed Mr. Tate's people that we'll be arriving in approximately twenty minutes. With any luck I'll have you boys home in time for dinner, / Jonathan heard the voice of whom he assumed was the skinny man at the restaurant.

/ Good Snotgrass, cause I'm starvin' and sufficiently tired of driving your narrow butt all around this worthless city, / Feast responded.

/ My boss is paying you and Mr. Famine a substantial sum to do just that. So I suggest you deal with it, ya big lummox. /

/ You'll have to forgive my partner Mr. Snotgrass, he tends to get a little irritated when he's hungry and hasn't killed anything before dinner. I assure...your boss...getting...worth. If anything...Famine and I...adequate. /

This is getting more interesting every minute, Jonathan thought pressing the self destruct button on his hand held device destroying the tracking strobe attached to Feast. Someone is using global security routers to jam and possibly track communication frequencies here in this sector. Not a small feat considering all global security communiqués are coded and decoded using Core Watch I. Not even the Roma Corporation would have such contingencies in place without global authorities knowing it.

"Driver, what does the name Tate mean to you."

"That your ol'lady is smatter than you are, mack. That's if she's shack'n up with Matthew Tate, yous know, that gazillionaire inventor geek. Don't get me wrong buddy, you're a nice looking guy and all, but for that much cred I'd leave ya too."

"I appreciate your honesty, she always did have a thing for the brainy type."

EMPORIA, KANSAS: Global farming region

"That boy of yours is one hack of a pilot, George," David Riggs said looking up at the small crop duster now pulling out of its second loop high above the ground.

"A show off is what he is. I can't even get that thing to fly straight half the time," George James chuckled.

"You know they've invented duster drones, don't ya George? You could buy one and stay grounded, I mean why risk crash'n in that antique twice a month?"

"I swear that's what's wrong with society today. All this technology is killing the human spirit. A man should have some since of adventure in him Dave. The entire world is becoming one big...what's that say'n...coach onion or someth'n like that."

Anthony "AJ" James loved to fly any time, anywhere. He had been flying all his life it seemed, either on his dad's lap at the age of four or alone at thirteen when his meta-human powers first manifested. His ability to operate any vehicle ever invented was just a derivative of his meta-human abilities he surmised. Even so the ancient Rockwell XII crop duster always seemed to give him the most trouble. Maybe it was because it was the first machine he ever flew on his own he thought. Looking down on the patch-quilt landscape of Kansas below he was surprised by the feeling of comfort that overwhelmed him.

Go figure, I wouldn't have thought I'd be the nostalgic type. Hadn't realized how much I missed this place. To think, I spent most of my adolescences looking for ways to escape, AJ thought leveling out the plane to begin its decent. I guess Doctor Konakolva was right, coming home might just be what I needed.

/ Son, your mom is getting impatient down here. Says dinner will be ready shortly and you should come down and get cleaned up, / George James voice echoed through the radio of the plane.

"Yes sir, I'm bringing her in right now. Dad, you should really consider getting a duster drone. I think..."

/ Not you too, son. Is everyone around here hell bent on try'n t'make me a coach onion? /

"That's a coach potato dad, and I think ol'Betsey's best days are behind her. She isn't safe to fly anymore, even I have trouble maintaining proper control of her."

/ You just get down here and we'll discus those duster drones over dinner. Someone is here to see ya, I think you'll be surprised to say the least. /

The wheels of the old plane touched the ground with a little more than a jolt as it taxied along a stretch of dirt road used for a landing strip in front of the family farm. AJ quickly cut the hydro-electric engine as he slide out of the cockpit leaping to the ground. His curiosity was getting the best of him and he was tempted to fly to his parents house using his powers. Remembering his promise to his mother he opted to run instead having made the promise to refrain from using his "special abilities", while visiting. "You'll spook the livestock and they want be right for months," she'd say. which made him laugh thinking back to all the times he did it purposely as a teenager.

"Tony, you be sure to wipe your feet," Emma James said waiting outside the door of the ranch styled home watching her son running up the dirt road.

"Mom, dad said someone was here t'see me?"

"That was suppose t'be a surprise for goodness sake. That man can't keep a secret to save his life."

"Don't be so hard on the ol'man mom, it's not often the prodigal son comes back home," Daniel James said stepping outside from behind the door.

"Well by that look on your face lil'brother I'd say you've been thoroughly dumbfounded."