New Recruits: Collateral Damage

The first few months in Lockway were pretty hard, mainly because we weren’t used to the constant demands. The Ministry arranged regular meetings with counsellors, to make sure we weren’t cracking under the pressure. I have to admit that it helped, but it was still hard. Here’s one example of why:

It was a hot Friday afternoon in July, a couple of months after our arrival. We were all outside, enjoying the sun and relaxing. Nobody was working-out because Friday nights tended to provide more than enough exercise. The low drone of the readiness alarm rang out and we all groaned as we ran to get suited up.

“Perfect! As soon as I put some lotion on something happens.” Jenny Reed, aka Pulse, complained as she headed for the locker rooms. I have to admit that I didn’t complain as she ran past. She was the classic beautiful blonde superhero, with the dazzling looks to match her dazzling powers.

Steve had already disappeared and Helen was ushered into her ready room so that her two technicians could help her get her armour on.

“Come on short arse.” Pete picked me up and threw me on his shoulders as he trotted past.

Once we were all in the chopper we were given details of the job.

When I heard we were heading out of the city I was pleased, but when I found out why I wasn’t smiling.

*****

There had been a train derailment a few miles outside of the city. Emergency services were there but things were difficult; it was on an old railway bridge with no access for vehicles.

Before touching down we hovered over the scene to get an idea of what was going on. Pete growled something as a TV crew buzzed past us. Vultures. There was no way of airlifting anything or anyone as the arches of the bridge were linked, forming a mazelike roof of steel girders.

We touched down and Sabre introduced himself to the people running the show. A small shape covered in a blanket was clutched to an ashen faced woman’s chest as she was helped to an ambulance, refusing to relinquish her package. I glanced at Bombardier but he looked away.

“The two middle carriages are badly twisted but there are a lot of people still alive. I think this is where we can be the most help.” Pulse was already on scene and hovering over the wreckage. Our radios were tuned in to the same frequency as the emergency services and they agreed with her assessment.

They had plenty to do dealing with the carnage they could easily get to. Sabre was up and rappelling onto the carriage next to Pulse before I was halfway. I stood on my discs and carried myself there as fast as I could...which wasn’t that fast. Bombardier and Scarlet bounded and scrambled their way there.

When I got there I saw that Pulse was knelt down, concentrating a focused beam of energy and cutting a large section of the carriage side away. Her level of control was much better than any cutting team could hope to achieve. Sabre’s voice could be heard as he used his amplifier to speak to the trapped and injured. He told them The Militia were here and that they’d all be out soon. You know, there was even a weak cheer.

Scarlet and Bombardier were peeling the side of the carriage away as Pulse cut. I was using my telekinesis to guide medical equipment through the steelwork above, as it was dropped from an air ambulance.

As soon as Pulse had carried the first paramedic over we began to start moving people, while she went to ferry a doctor across.

Sabre had used what medical supplies he carried to help as many as he could, and Bombadier and Scarlet were creating as much space as possible without hurting anyone.

Pretty soon we were surplus to needs but the fire brigade said we’d worked wonders freeing peopleā€“it was one of their biggest problems. We stood together quietly as the dead and injured were dealt with. Pulse hugged herself as she watched a wounded man shake as he was bandaged. Her normally glowing white costume was filthy with dirt and blood.

Sabre was talking to the senior police officer on scene.

A shout from one of the carriages got my attention, “Hey Disc, over here mate!” It was Keith, one of the paramedics.

I ran over to see what he wanted. He was looking down, deep into the bottom of a carriage which was stood almost on its end.

“What can I do?” I was nervous. Hurting people is easy but trying to help injured people is bloody terrifying.

“See there?” He shone a light into the smoky darkness at the jumble of luggage and mangled seats at the bottom of the carriage.

“What I don’t see... wait.” At that point I saw what he meant. It was either a boot or somebody’s foot inside a boot. There was such a jumble of wreckage it was difficult to tell.

“Can you clear some of that lot so that we can see if someone’s down there? I don’t want to go in in case I loosen anything.”

I had to be very gentle as I removed each piece of debris, making sure not to catch anything. It was like one of those games where you mustn’t hit the wire or the buzzer will sound.

It was dark before I had finished and I was drenched in sweat, concentrating for all I was worth. As I picked each piece out I passed it to Bombardier to get rid of.

There was a body at the bottom; it was a man, roughly in his early thirties. From his clothing he looked like a construction worker. It was obvious that he was badly hurt by the unnatural position he was in.

“Can you lift him out without changing his position?” Keith’s expression told me that he knew he was asking a lot. He was an intelligent guy; a lot of people think there aren’t any limits.

My head was killing me by this time. Imagine you’ve been using the same muscle for hour after hour without rest and you’ll get the general idea. I was tempted to just say no but I knew I couldn’t.

Lifting the broken body of that man without doing any more damage to him was the hardest thing I’d ever done at that point in my career. But I did it. As the body rose from the opening of the carriage doorway there was a cheer and applause. Cameras flashed and my exhausted face was beamed into most of the homes in the UK. I was glad they weren’t there later when I was throwing up.

We were all fairly chatty as we travelled home in the skipjet, pleased to have done some good, and I was the man of the moment. It wasn’t until we found out what had happened that the mood changed.

Sabre rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, “An explosion in the First Class carriage is what caused the train to derail. It was a professional hit.”

“What?” Scarlet was shaking her hair free as she removed her helmet.

“Who was the target?” It didn’t make any difference to how we all felt but

I wanted to know.

“Francis Morgan, a captain for a big player based in the old Russian Federation. His name’s Hans Bergon but he likes to be called The Emperor.

According to our information it’s a fitting title; he has quite an organisation.”

“Is there some kind of gang war going on?” Pete asked.

“All I know at the moment is that Bergon wants to get a foothold in Lockway and our own local crime lord won’t let him.”

“Stick?”

“Who else.”

Helen was following the conversation with obviously growing anger. “So all of those people... kids even, died to get one man, one scumbag?”

Sabre just nodded.

*****

For weeks after the train attack we were all sort of driven; not that we weren’t already, but things were different. There was an edge to all of us that wasn’t there before; we were meaner than before. When we’d started out, the most our enemies got from us was a serious scare and maybe a broken bone. Now the bones cracked with regularity and we didn’t worry too much about things going further.

Our new found aggression served us well. The media loved us because of the stories we provided; the people loved us...the law abiding ones anyway... because we frightened the bad guys; and the bad guys, well, they were frightened.

The law was just glad of the help.

As it turned out, it wasn’t our changed methods that gave us our big break, it was good luck. Callous as it may sound when you hear the details. Sabre called us all to the briefing room, he looked edgy, and that was an unusual look for him. He told us all to take a seat and watch as he played a recording on the screen.

It was a police interview room and this well dressed guy with an expression like death was spilling his guts about Stick and the whole setup. It went on for twenty minutes and apparently that was only part of it.

We all sat there open mouthed; it was a massive breakthrough and what we’d been waiting for. Stick was James Nunn, a long time businessman and villain who’d been playing down his reputation for years. The police were well aware of Nunn’s criminal activities in the area of protection and as a fence for stolen goods, but he’d always been a bit too clever to pin down. It turned out that he’d been a lot trickier than anyone had realized; that criminal persona was all a screen for someone a lot more powerful. No-one had even suspected him of being Stick.

At the end of the viewing Jenny asked the obvious question, “So why’s this guy suddenly decided to tell tales? Surely he knows his prospects are going to be pretty grim in or out of prison.”

Sabre seemed pleased at the question, “His name’s Brian Witherspoon, a rising star in the Lockway underworld; until now of course. His ex-wife and kids were killed in the Gateway Bridge explosion; they were in First class. Witherspoon’s been simmering while he considered what to do about it. It looks like he was planning on killing Stick himself but didn’t fancy the consequences, so he came to us. If he gives us everything, he gets a new face and disappears. Just what we’ve been waiting for Team!” At least I wasn’t the only callous shit; I was in good company.

“What were their names?” Helen asked.

“Whose?”

“His wife and kids.”

Steve paused for a moment, “Sorry, I don’t know.”