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Chapter-13- New Years Resolution

January 1, 2024, 3:30am PST San Francisco, California Pages Lost Nightclub ...

The office door opened , bathing the door room in bright illumination from the hallway. A demure silhouette stepped through the doorframe and brushed a hand against the wall, searching for the light switch. The sound of fingernails scraped along the switch plate; the lights came on.

Stand in the doorway, Krys Monroe froze. Her eyes widened but her pupils constricted in adjustment to the change of lighting. "You."

Samantha Summers sat at the desk, leaned back in a comfortable office chair, feet up on the desktop with her ankles crossed. She wore a shiny colorful cardstock mask with the eyeholes cut out of the 'zero' and 'four' of '2024'. Summers held a silenced pistol in her right hand and a remote control switch in her left. "I've waited here all night, Monroe."

A visible twitch moved over Krys Monroe's throat. "How the hell did you get in here? You need biometric access."

Samantha drew her legs back at a casual pace. She put her feet on the edge of the desk then shoved it forward. It scooted across the floor. Beneath her chair, an unconscious man lay slumped with his hands behind his back tightly tied with rope to his ankles. He had a New Years noisemaker shoved into his mouth, backwards.

"This guy had access," said Summers. "It was easy. I asked him if he ever had a fantasy about fucking on his boss' desk. He said it sounded like one hell of a way to ring in the New Year. We came in, I told him to leave off the lights because I'm not drunk enough to try a one-night-stand with them on. He couldn't see me reach into my purse and pull out a weapon. The animal tranquilizer did the hard work. I doubt he'll wake up in time to save himself."

Krys scraped her nails across the doorframe in agitation, keeping very still. "Save himself from what?"

"You forgot my promise? I told you when we met, and I told one of your thugs before escaping here on my last visit."

"What are you talking about, Agent Summers?"

"I said I was going to burn down your club. And lady, I'm here to ring in the New Year the right way. I made a New Years Resolution: I promise to make good on all my old threats. So here I am. I'm going to burn down everything you love. I'll start with you, then I'll find Anne. Then I'll find Dr. Falcon."

Monroe swallowed again. "Your file says you're obsessed with following the law very close."

"I am. Very much so, I am. Did you know this club's building permit was falsified? Apparently someone paid off the right people to get it pushed through so that the county would overlook an illegal foundation design. Something about discretely changing the sewer and electrical grid underground. It actually interferes with the sublevel city infrastructure. The EPA has no idea about the illegal power generation equipment here. And why do you need all that power, anyway? What are you running in your basement?"

"That's none of your business. You don't have a warrant, and you aren't a Federal agent anymore. You're not here on behalf of the state, the city or the county. So you are breaking the law by trespassing."

"Sister, I've had an epiphany." Samantha smiled. She lifted her thumb away from a button on the detonator in her left hand. She carefully used that thumb to slide the mask up over her face and tossed it to the floor. She wrapped her thumb back over the trigger and gazed down the length of her pistol. A small red dot danced on Krys Monore's forehead. It moved down to the bridge of the woman's nose, between her eyes. "Aren't you going to ask what I've decided?"

"It's none of my business. We don't have to be enemies. I'm here to help save more lives than you could comprehend."

"Yeah. Okay. So that's what you do now, huh? You take people up to the roof, kill them, and hope they come back to life as an Esoteric being?"

"So you've met Nevada."

"We're not friends," Summers said. "But let's not change the subject. We were talking about my epiphany. I realized the mortal world works for the Esoteric Council and simply doesn't know it. I've learned that this council operated in so many venues. Police, military, political ... I've learned that they helped to push laws into existence to benefit their agendas."

"Yes, they were abusing their power. It took you that long to realize that? You should be thanking me."

"Don't be daft, dummy. And don't assume you see things from my perspective, Monroe." Samantha held the detonator up. "What color is this?"

"Excuse me?" Krys tilted her head, grimaced in frustration then muttered the word, "Black."

"No. It's white."

Krys blinked. "No, agent. You're wrong. It's black."

Summers arched her wrist and showed the back panel of the detonation trigger. "It's piecemeal constructed." The rear panel was as white as the season's first snowfall. "Don't tell somebody they're wrong until you have seen things from their point of view." She waited watched Monroe's face carefully.

Krys licked her lips and pursed them together. She lowered her hands to her sides, "Look..."

"Get them back up."

"What?"

Samantha tilted the weapon and pulled the trigger. The flash suppressor clicked loudly and bucked with a discharge. Krys looked around and zeroed in on a bullet hole in the doorframe at eye level. She lifted her hands back up and put them on the frame. "So what was your point? I can't see things from where you're sitting?"

"Exactly. I realized that I was working for the Esoteric Council indirectly. But I was still carrying out their needs and demands. They were making the rules? Fine. The world wasn't so bad off, now was it? I'm working for one of the older ones, if not the oldest, and he says I can demolish this building. I've basically been working for him and his constituents from the beginning. Now I've skipped orders from the middlemen. So I'm here, doing my job. No prison can hold you. You will not get a fair trial, because you will skip the due process and get out of jail free. The only option left is to take you down, then move on to your pal and your boss."

A bead of sweat ran down the side of Monroe's face. She rubbed her sweaty palms against the doorframe and swallowed. "Fine. Shoot me. Karla Howard tried to kill me before. I was ready then and I'm ready now."

"Karla Howard let you go so she could follow you back to the source. You left a trail. Now Karla and her friends have gathered enough intelligence to find their way back to Dr. Falcon without needing to follow your wake. But you have two options. You can drop dead right now and I'll burn down your club. Or you can go down to the bar. I'll tie you to it, then I'll burn down your club so you can watch it go."

"Jesus Christ. What's gotten into you? You were hardcore about the law. It was black and white, and now you've gone off the deep end."

"It was black and white. Now I see I was blind to all the shades of grey in between everything I thought before. What's your option?"

"You're fucking crazy, Summers."

"Fine." Samantha thumbed the trigger on the detonator. An explosion shook the club. Drop ceiling tiles fell from above. One landed on the desk, slid across a phone and landed on the floor adjacent to the hog-tied bouncer. "Now you get to die knowing it burned down." She turned the gun back towards Monroe, telegraphing her intent to fire the weapon.

Krys dove away from the doorframe. The pistol bucked, missing its target. Out across the hallway, over the mezzanine, one of the large colored light fixtures erupted in a brilliant flash of sparks from the gunshot.

Summers jumped up from the seat, hurdled the desk, and raced through the doorway. At the end of the hall, she saw Monroe dash into a service elevator. Samantha raced up to it and shot three more rounds into the closing doors. She heard Krys's muffled shout of surprise and wondered if she dinged the woman.

Samantha looked around for the stairs and hurried down them two at a time. On the ground floor she rushed out and approached the elevator, aiming her weapon at the doors. They didn't open. After five seconds she approached the doors and forced them open. The elevator continued down the shaft, far beneath the club.

She turned around and pointed the weapon at a barmaid with a push broom. "You! Where are the stairs that access the sublevel?"

"I ... I didn't know there was a sublevel, except for the wine storage!" Please don't shoot me!"

Summers narrowed her gaze, studying the woman's face. "You mean the wine storage where the extra pyrotechnic equipment is stored? Beneath the stage?"

The twenty-something girl stammered in reply. "Yes, y-yes. Yes, exactly, yes. Why are you doing this? It's the New Years, we're supposed to be happy!"

The agent scoffed with a roll of her eyes. "Your boss is an international criminal. This venue is a front for her illegal operations. This place is about to burn to the ground. Drop your broom and get the hell out. Oh, and drop the gothic act and go back to college."

"I didn't drop out. I haven't finished."

"Are there others here like you?"

"Only the bouncers. They all rushed to check on that explosion. The other girls and the kitchen staff left over an hour ago."

"Then get out of here. If the cops ask who you spoke to, you tell them Agent Summers, Division two clandestine sector. Tell them OSPRI."

"Osprey?"

"Yes, like the bird. Now GO!"

The girl dropped the broom, grabbed her purse, her cellphone and charger off the bar, and hurried out from behind the door. She stopped at the door leading to the coatroom. "Thank you for letting me go!" She hurried through, towards the south parking lot exit. A moment later, an emergency exit door, opened by the barmaid, tripped the internal fire alarm for the building.

A siren wailed three times over the in-house PA system. Fire indicators flashed on the walls throughout the club, adding a slow strobe effect to the area.

Smoke poured out around the door leading to the kitchen. Samantha approached it and nudged the door ajar. Fire and thick smoke poured from the ventilation grates on the wall near the floor. Flames made their way from the ductwork and began to lick up the walls inside the kitchen.

Summers walked back to the bar, took a bottle of top-shelf brandy and carried it back to the kitchen. She threw the bottle towards the fire. The expensive glass bottle shattered and the fire roared, fueled by the alcohol. The flames spread aggressively across a wall. A bottle of cooking vodka became consumed.

She pointed her weapon and shot the clear bottle. It burst. The fire danced up the wall, along the splattered vodka. Flames rolled across the ceiling. "Well. That escalated quickly."

Pleased with her work, Samantha stepped back out to the main section of the club and walked back towards the elevator. She forced the doors open again then pointed her weapon at the cable descending the center of the shaft. She fired. Sparks.

Summers ground her molars together and put two more rounds into the thick metal cable. It snapped. She flinched, half expecting the cable to whip around but it simply disappeared from view in the blink of an eye. She leaned forward, peering down the shaft again. Silence.

She squinted, unable to see anything. She expected flashing sparks and the squeal of brakes. She expected some sort of emergency floodlights, or an alarm. Nothing. "Well. That didn't escalate at all."

"Maybe you need a closer look!" someone shouted from behind her. She felt hands on her back and her body tensed up. Samantha flailed forward. She expected the weightless feel of impending doom but it never happened. Instead, she felt exquisite pain where her teeth slammed together.

Dazed, she opened her eyes and felt something cool against her chin and forehead. Her left wrist ached and her ankle felt tight.

The adrenaline surged and her head cleared. Samantha looked back over her shoulder from inside the shaft. She wiggled to get her bearings and all at once realized her left arm and right calf were tangled in a service ladder that went along the back of the shaft. She saw another one that went alongside the opposite end of the shaft, adjacent to the doors.

"Fuck, that was supposed to kill you!"

She pointed her pistol back at the bouncer in the empty elevator doors. The pistol called out with a staccato click. The man slumped in the door, dead. His head and arms hung over the side, into the shaft. His legs lay sprawled out on the dance floor.

Lying below the door sensor, they slid shut and thudded against his ribs. The doors opened slightly then made another attempt, meeting his ribcage each time.

Samantha swallowed. She carefully wedged the pistol into her belt and gingerly eased her ankle from between the ladder rungs. With solid footing, she drew her bruised left arm from between the ladder and the wall and began to climb. She saw a set of doors above her, quick to realize that the elevator must have had doors on both sides of the shaft.

To her left, she saw metal chain-link fencing that covered the wall on her right to protect thick black cables. She carefully placed her hands out and latched onto the fence. It sagged under her weight but held her. She moved sideways across it, then reached out for the other ladder adjacent to the doors that were still open.

Samantha put her hand on the floor, adjacent to the dead body and felt wetness against her palm. She sighed and took a deep breath. Something about blood made her heart race and stomach feel fluttery. She closed her fingers over the section of the door nearest to her and pulled back on it to force it all the way open.

She ascended the ladder that ran alongside of the doors, keeping her left hand along the door to keep it open. Six rungs up, she stepped into the doorway, careful not to stumble on the body. Summers looked around the empty dance floor, sighed in relief, then looked back at the man she'd shot.

"There was once upon a time where your attack would have cost me another two hours of writing incident reports and filing papers, documenting photographs ... all of it." She wiped her hand on the back of his left leg several times until the blood was mostly cleaned from her palm. "But those days are long gone." She put her foot against his rump and gave a firm push.

The weight of his head and arms carried him into the shaft. His legs bucked up then plunged into the darkness with the rest. She held her breath and listened. Two long seconds passed followed by a distant muffled impact. The elevator doors slid shut with a thump.

A klaxon broke the silence and caused her to literally jump. She reached for her pistol and drew it from her belt then looked around. A blue light, beneath the fire alarm panels, flashed at a different tempo from the fire strobe.

"What the hell is that?" she asked. The klaxon sounded loudly for thirty seconds then abruptly stopped. The blue light continued to flash beneath the white strobe.

She looked up at the catwalk and rafters. "Where the hell are the fire sprinklers? Lance are you still seeing what I'm seeing? What's going on?"

Words came across her contact lenses in a type font similar in style to an old typewriter. 'Unknown. No fire alarm has been called in. The police scanner hasn't mentioned anything about the fire yet.'

She adjusted the party blazer she wore then glanced down at the button on the front. She turned it inwards and cleaned a smudge off of it. "Can you see better now?"

'Much clearer. Thank you.'

Summers turned back towards the kitchen. Fire consumed the door and smoke poured from around it. The circular plastic window set into the center of the door melted and flames occasionally came through, leaving a scorch mark on the door above the empty window panel. She stared at it for a moment, as though mesmerized by the orange glow.

'Where did Monroe go?'

"The bitch got away. Do you want me to go down the elevator shaft and see where the ladder takes me?"

'No. Too dangerous to guess. Cannot guarantee means of escape; she could be ready for you. Time to leave.'

"Fine by me," she said. Samantha headed across the dance floor, back towards the bar. She looked around, spotted the coat closet and made her way towards it.

"Summers!"

Samantha stopped in her tracks and turned around. She pointed her gun in the direction of a masculine voice. The bouncer held a pistol of his own, pointed at her in return.

She brazenly approached him. He didn't fire. She kept the gun pointed at his head. A red dot flitted about above his brows, occasionally disappearing in his hair. "Where is Krys Monroe?"

"I don't know who you're talking about. But you caused a big mess here last week."

"You don't know your own boss? You stupid douche-dick, you know exactly who I'm talking about?"

Words came across Summers' contact lenses. 'Douche-dick? If you want people to take you seriously, don't make up insults.'

"Listen, lady, the boss is long gone. She's securing things and destroying evidence ten steps ahead of your stupid investigation crap. Now. The way I see it, we both have guns pointed at each other. You want to solve this without a piece? I'll lose the gun if you lose yours."

She continued to approach him until she was in arm's reach. She took his gun in her left hand and pushed back to keep the slide cocked. "Now I've got yours. What're you going to do?"

He shoved her forward. She took his gun but lost the grip on it. The 9mm handgun clattered across the floor and disappeared beneath a stack of tables and chairs on a nearby wall.

Summers glanced back to make sure it was out of play but was caught off guard when he reached for her gun. He used both hands to try and pry her weapon from her grip.

She reached up with her left hand, clenched his hair in her fist and brought her knee up while forcing him to double over. The gun fired into the floor.

He jerked away with a groan and fell to the floor. The man got up onto one elbow, pointing her gun at her. The slide was cocked back. His brows furrowed in confusion.

Summers held the ejected magazine in her right hand. "The chambered round is in the floor. How's your ribs?"

He threw the gun then winced in pain and brought his hand back to his chest. He used two fingers and pressed against his shirt then flinched. "You broke my fucking ribs, you bitch."

"Yeah. And disarmed the gun. And fired the last bullet into the floor. Pretty good, you've got to admit."

He got to his feet and balled his hands into fists. "I'm going to make you pay for that."

"Oh yeah? Monroe too cheap to give you guys medical?"

He dove at her, hands out.

She hit him in the face with the metal magazine, denting it. Bullets spilled across the floor.

He jerked away and cupped the side of his face adjacent to his eye. "God damn!"

Summers kicked the bullets away then picked up the useless gun and slid the magazine into the handle but it was too dented to fit. She threw the gun towards the stacked tables and chairs then threw the magazine in the other direction. "Fine. CQC. You still have plenty more ribs to break. Unless you want to take me to Monroe."

"Fuck you, she ain't here!"

Fire penetrated the kitchen door and climbed the walls around the doorframe. It raced across the black felt wallpaper and in seconds made the nearby coat check exit completely inaccessible. Samantha glared at it. Fire came from vents near the front door, catching along the drapes held by statue gargoyles at the main entrance.

The thug saw her distracted and cocked his fist back.

Summers dodged a jab, took him by his arm, buried her shoulder into his underarm and flipped him towards the bar. He recovered quickly but was dazed and stumbled over a barstool. She reached for his shirt and slammed him against the wall near the end of the bar counter. "Monroe?"

"Suck my dick, bitch."

"Where is she? Last chance." Samantha tightened her grip around the thug's collar and shoved him firmly against the wall.

The light of a fire illuminated his face. The reflection of the flames danced in his eyes.

"Where is Monroe?"

"Lady, the cops are on their way."

Samantha narrowed her gaze at the man. "No they're not. Didn't you hear the rumors? The staff, here, are cop killers. They killed Reno Nevada up on the roof and Frank Sanders was forced to resign by Internal Affairs. Turns out he was working for Aris Falcon, the man who paid for this club to be built. The security footage of Reno being killed was leaked to YouTube yesterday. I saw it posted on CopBlock's website before sundown. It said that several identified cops moonlighting as bouncers for a club took an inspector to a roof and killed him before he could solve the homicide of innocent gypsies. And the story goes on to talk about how IA found out the Captain was behind it, but he'd already left town by the time they concluded their investigation."

"The cops are coming, lady."

"No, asshole. The cops that are left in San Francisco will be delighted to see this place disappear. All the guilty ones ran with Frank Sanders. I met that guy once. He was a real piece of work, just like you."

"Lady, you're crazy! Get off me!"

"How about ... no." She pulled him away from the wall and poked him in his chest where his rib was broken. The man doubled over in pain. She took him by the belt and flipped him over the bar. Alcohol bottles crashed and shattered, soaking him in liquor. "Now you're really flammable. And that fire is coming for you. If you tell me what I want to know, I'll help you get out of here."

He reached under the bar and withdrew a discretely placed handgun. The man thumbed the hammer and pointed it in her face. "Listen here, Agent Summers. I don't know where she is. But even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

"Oh, is that right." She reached for a backup pistol behind her back, keeping her movements calm and casual so as not to upset the man with the gun.

All at once she felt a large arm around her neck and a body behind her. She struggled and stomped her feet down on the man's shoes only to realize he wore steel-toe boots.

Samantha felt herself spiral forward. She hit the floor and rolled then sat up in shock.

Her eyes met the man from the last time she was at the club. She saw he had bruising under his neck from where she'd choked him with the sledgehammer. "I only let you live so you could see how 24 ends. You going to begrudge me for not finishing the job, Bluto?"

"I just returned the favor and kept you from being shot. But that doesn't mean I won't kill you myself. Besides, I've watched the whole series all the way through twice already. Ya dumb broad, that show is old."

She put her hands on the floor behind herself and sat up. Her fingers curled around the handle of the secondary handgun against her back. "Fine." She got to her feet slowly. Meanwhile she thumbed the safety on her gun and took a deep breath. "So, how do we do this? Fist fight?"

"Oh I have a surprise for you."

"Yeah. I told you I'd burn this place down. Now you see it's on fire. I told you I'd take you down last time and I did. I always follow through with what I say. So let me tell you how it's going to go tonight. I'm going to end your pal behind the bar. Then you're next."

"Oh yeah? And how do you manage to do that without this?" The man held up the magazine from her handgun. "I ejected this when I came up behind you at the bar. Bimbo."

Samantha ground her teeth in frustration. Her eyes cut to the man at the bar with a weapon in his hand. She looked back at the bruiser in front of her then back at the armed man at the bar. He had his weapon pointed somewhat downwards. She mentally processed the threat assessment by the book and made a snap decision.

The agent withdrew the pistol from behind herself, pointed it at the man at the bar and squeezed the trigger. The man dropped to the ground, dead. The slide on her pistol locked back. She sneered. "Still had one in the chamber, dickless."

The man looked back at the other guy slumped into a cabinet full of broken wine glasses. Blood ran down from his upper cheekbone and dripped off his chin. He glanced back at Summers and balled his hands into fists. "That was your last mistake, little girl."

Samantha turned her pistol around and held it by the barrel so that the handgun resembled a hammer. "Fine. Let's do this."

The brute backed up to the bar, reached over it, and pried the dead man's handgun from him. He pointed the weapon back at her and shook his head. "Sorry. I'm not some rogue wacko like you. I follow directions, little girl." He backed away from her. "You get to stay here and meet LARA."

"Stop!" The voice came from the PA. Both the gunman and Summers looked towards the stage. A well-dressed man in all black stood with a microphone in hand. "She's coming to the facility. She's working for Methos. She might be useful."

The man with the gun furrowed his brows. "How the hell do you know who she works for? And who the hell is Methos? I beat the shit out of her, like, a week ago, and couldn't get a single name." He pointed the weapon at the man in the suit from across the dance floor.

"That weapon is in no way accurate from that distance, Reggie."

"How d'you know my name?!"

"I know of all Falcon and Monroe's employees. Did you know that everyone answers to someone? Even the wayward Japanese Ronen answers to the whim of the gods who control his destiny."

Reggie fired his pistol at the man across the dance floor. Six rounds discharged. None of them hit the man, although two came close.

Words moved across Samantha's contact lenses. 'I cannot see the man on stage. He is digitally blurred, and his voice sounds distorted over my speakers.'

The man calmly withdrew his own pistol. He hunched his left shoulder up against his left ear and plugged his right one with his right index finger. He extended his left arm, gazed down the sights atop the handgun and discharged it once.

The burley bruiser groaned. He sank to back against the bar counter, panting softly.

Samantha approached Reggie and said, "Give me my magazine. Don't be stupid. That guy shot you in the gut from half a football field away. You're expendable. If you behave, I'll get you out of here before you burn to death."

Reggie released the magazine. It clattered on the tiled floor. He lifted one hand and waved her close as if trying to tell her something.

She leaned down, bringing her ear near his mouth. Discretely, she picked up the magazine. She slid it into her weapon and thumbed a switch. The slide popped into place, loading a round into the chamber.

"That guy is running the show."

"Yeah? You know him?"

"Falcon is working with two supernatural dudes. They wanted to kill the majority of the freaks like some sort of cleansing. They wanted to start the supernatural race over. They said all the mutts had to go, all the pure-breeds could say, but only people they felt were going to be true to their cause. That guy over there? He's the one that the two supernatural guys answer to. I've only seen him once. He's using Falcon as a guinea pig. He wants Falcon to do all the hard work."

She stayed quiet and listened to him speak quickly from the spike of adrenaline in his system. In her contact lenses, a status box displayed adjacent to his face, showing elevated levels of corticosteroids. It showed an epinephrine level and other information about his endocrine glands. The man began sweating heavily. "Keep going," she whispered.

"He wants Falcon to figure out how to steal abilities. Then that guy plans on taking it all for himself. That's how those people work. Just like half the bad guys in 24. They're used by someone higher up. In the end, they weren't so bad after all. Like Charles Logan."

"Logan? Third President in the series?" She looked up at the man in the black suit, across the club.

"Yeah. He thought he was in control, but he was a means to an end. That's what Falcon is. He's Charles Logan. He thinks he's the president but he winds up getting used for his position. That guy up there is the main guy. Fucker shot me."

"I don't remember Logan being forced into making those choices. I only remember him feeling bad after he got caught. He's still remembered as a bad guy, and Falcon is in the same grouping. Now, who is that guy over there? Is he supernatural?" she asked.

"I don't know. But he's some sort of inventor. Makes technology like those contacts we took from you last time we captured you. He invented that shit. I met him when he came and took them from us. He made most of the equipment Falcon uses to conduct his experiments on the freak people."

Summers looked up and saw the man step down from the stage. He began walking across the dance floor. "Can I kill him?"

"I'm a good shot," said Reggie. "That guy probably had a way to deflect my bullets. He makes stuff you wouldn't believe. You have no chance unless you get up close and personal."

"Sit tight. You behave yourself and I'll get you out of here."

Reggie shook his head. "He fuckin' shot me in my appendix. I'm going to die, kid. Whoever this Methos guy is ... that man is interested in your employer. Use that. Don't be stubborn. Play along, wait until his guard is down. Then do him. Now get out of here."

"You're going to burn to death."

Reggie reached for her gun. He forced her to put the barrel against his head. "No. I'm not. It'll be quick this way. Now do it."

"We can get you to a hospital and..."

Reggie tightened his forearm over her hand. He used his thumb to force her index finger down. The trigger clicked. The gun fired. His head snapped to the side. Blood sprayed over the bar, glowing in the flames, which approached from the other end of the club.

Samantha exclaimed in pain. She dropped the gun. It dropped to the floor along with Reggie's hand.

Summers waved her right hand with a hiss of pain. She looked down at a red line behind her thumb where the slide had pinched the skin during the discharge.

She quickly picked the weapon up with her left hand and pointed it at the approaching man. "So you shot him. Judge, jury and executioner, huh?"

"You were prepared to do the same, Samantha."

"How do you know my name? What should I call you?"

"You worked for OSPRI. I, along with several others, founded the company as a pet project. It became a shell corporation at one point. Later, I felt there was an actual need for humans to patrol the mutts of the Esoteric Community. So I developed them into a Federal agency."

The man stopped in front of her. He held the gun in her general direction but didn't point it directly at her.

"What do you want?"

"You're coming with me. I like you. Methos believes in you for a reason. You're human, yet you've escaped this place then came back and set fire to it. Impressive without logistical support or a team."

"What do you want from me? Information?"

"Samantha, there is nothing you know that I didn't already know first." He paused and glanced at the other man, dead behind the bar, and smiled. "You have steady hands. Very clean headshot."

"So do you, apparently."

"To a degree. I aimed for his head. I hit him in the torso. I am not proficient at fifty-one meters without a scope, I'm afraid. Thank you for finishing the job for me. There was no need for him to suffer."

"You actually give a shit if people suffer?"

"I do. All the supernaturals that were hunted were done so with precise tactics designed to end their life with little or no struggle so that they would die without suffering. I am a killer, but I am humane when I euthanize them. They are dogs needing to be put down. Some were loyal; some bit the hand that fed them. But in the end, they were all rabid to one degree or another and needed to be put down to better the world."

"Who are you?"

"That doesn't matter. Give me your weapon and come with me."

"No. It's the only thing that keeps you from killing me."

"I don't want you dead or I would have shot you from the stage. The building is going to collapse soon from the structure fire you started. All exits are blocked. I have technology that will repel the flames if you stay close to me but it's effective range is very limited. Give me your weapon or unload it. Then stay close to me. We're leaving together. I have plans for you."

She narrowed her gaze at him then ejected the magazine from her pistol and removed the round from the chamber. Samantha looked around the burning club. A smile crossed her face. "I did what I came to do. I'm satisfied to leave. Happy fucking New Year. Seeing this place on fire is the best way to start 2024."

"Very well. It was an unnecessary expense and brought too much attention to Aris' operation. He should have never funded this..." the man waved his hand, gesturing to the club.

"Falcon and Monroe are hand-in-hand business partners. That's why he did it. To make her happy.

"If Krys wanted to serve drinks, she could have opened an establishment in New Atlantis. If she wanted to play mobster, then she is part of the problem with the world today. Falcon should have made another and scrapped this version."

They passed through the blaze leading into the kitchen. A field glowed gently around them in a transparent bubble, repulsing the flames. "What do you mean by that?"

"Krys Monroe died in 2011. She was very likable and intelligent. Her interests were commendable. I knew her personally. Falcon and I grew the woman you perceive as Krys Monroe from DNA we took from her body while she was on her deathbed. We tried to preserve her memories and thought patterns but it's not a perfect science yet."

They walked out through a side door at the far end of the kitchen and emerged in an alley facing large dumpsters. Samantha looked up at where the roof became flat high above. Where Reno Nevada had been struck by lightning and thrown off like trash on the 28th of November.

The man looked at her then up at the roof where flames roared into the black sky. He followed her gaze to the dumpsters then smiled. They continued to walk together. "Yes. Less than a month ago, this is where Inspector Nevada was reborn. Very unexpected. He's as much of an anomaly as the last man to wield the power of lightning. It took over a hundred years to kill that man."

"Lighting?"

"Mm, yes. Seems those are the ones who are the most difficult to tolerate. Zeus, Jupiter, Thor, Nathanial ... all very tiresome men with foolish ideals. The difference is, nobody will worship Nathanial. He is gone forever. And now Nevada seems to have manifested this ability."

"Some say it was passed on to Nevada, and it went active when he attracted a lightning bolt to his body the night he was up on that roof."

"Perhaps. The fact is, he's already acting childish with it. You were right to open fire on him. It's disconcerting that your methods were ineffective. It seemed to have triggered his ability to teleport as an electrical current."

"No. I was wrong to open fire on him. He's working with my employer now, alongside Karla Howard and others."

"They're using their abilities publically. It's strictly forbidden. You know this as well as I do."

"It was my employer's idea. He felt it would draw Falcon out of hiding. Aris Falcon needs to be stopped. He doesn't know what the hell he's doing."

"That is true, but I will handle him when the time is right. He still has use for the time being, Samantha. However, Lance Patterson, as he calls himself now, has lost his mind. Allowing the public to know about supernaturals is the last thing that should have happened. Allow me to show you my side of things before you make a decision. That's all I ask."

"Fine. One look. But right now, from where I stand, it seems like that group of Esoteric survivors is the answer we need to stop Falcon from doing things that are causing hundreds of thousands to die from attacks. His actions have caused hundreds to struggle with a new designer drug. And now he's stealing some sort of artifacts from around the world and doing something in the Atlantic. Now there are all these crazy storms happening, one after another. Whatever he's doing, and however he's causing all this mess, he needs to be stopped."

"He still has purpose. Have you ever considered that these storms are a byproduct of a necessary action? And the storms are far better than the alternative? Again, see things from where I stand before you judge. That's all I ask."

"I ... I have to admit, I'm a big believer in knowing all the facts. I want to know what's on both sides of the coin before I flip it."

"Very well. You have a lot to learn in a short amount of time. Come with me. We have a plane to catch."

She looked back at the burning nightclub for a moment. She decided that it would be better to see this man's operation, learn what she can, and report to Lance. All these fancy people with fancy powers couldn't figure out how to get to the bottom of everything, but she was now in the position to put all the pieces together on her own. "Fine. I accept."

Her eyes flitted back to the inferno. In the distance, the wail of sirens approached. A section of the roof collapsed, causing a burst of orange to float up around the flames. A smile returned to her face. "Happy New Year, pal. Say, what's your name?"

"I've gone by many names. Some would be very difficult for you to pronounce. Some were extremely forgettable. I have a file for you to read in the plane that will answer all your questions, including my current name, my age and my blood type. Hopefully that will satisfy your curiosities."

She began walking again. Her thoughts turned to Reno, Karla and their friends. She couldn't help but wonder what they were doing. "Fine. But if I don't feel comfortable at any point in time, I will walk."

"I will give you an open door policy. I simply want you to see things from my perspective, so that we have a clear understanding of why I need for you to leave my people alone. And I'll also explain to you why I cannot and will not kill you. You have purpose just like everyone in my life."

"I see. Well. Just don't forget that, pal. I have purpose. I'm not expendable."

"Indeed. You aren't. By the way, have you ever met a man named Jasper Cunningham?"

"That was the name of my uncle. He disappeared in the 90's. Nobody knows what happened to him. All we know is that he was part of a Government soldier program, then he disappeared."

"Yes. He was enrolled in a super soldier program. His doctor's name was Sokolov. His daughter seemed healthy for the first seven years of her life, then she mutated into something we cannot control - a horribly fearsome creature that cannot be killed. We've kept her safe while trying to find a relative. I'd like to use your genetics to cure her. Unfortunately he cannot have children anymore because, while the super soldier project was successful and he is stable, his offspring are affected by the genetic instability that plagued some of our earlier test subjects. You have clean un-tarnished genetics and you're related to him and to her. I feel that your blood can help us find a way to reverse what happened to the girl, stabilize her, and ultimately cure her. Wouldn't you like to save the life of a first cousin you never knew you had? And wouldn't you like to meet your uncle again?"

"I ... you're serious?"

"I am."

"So I'm not disposable?"

"No, my dear. We're trying to help the world, not hurt it."

"Okay. I'll be cooperative."

"Very good. I'll let you keep your contact lenses that Methos gave you. But they will not function when in proximity to me. I have a technology disrupting barrier active around me. Are you still okay with this?"

"It's fine. Just ... prove to me that you're telling the truth."

"Yes, of course." There was a limousine on the corner, several blocks from the burning nightclub. He opened the door for her. She slipped into the posh interior and he joined her. The man knocked on the window and the driver knocked in reply. The limo pulled forward, heading towards the San Francisco airport in Millbrae.

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Next chapter: https://www.sofurry.com/view/654246