The monarchs conferred with each other briefly and oneby one signed off, their holographic images fading from theconference room.
When he was finally alone, Mr. Gein stepped to thesideboard and poured himself a generous amount of gin. He downed thedrink and quickly refilled.
He activated his com. "Get me Mr. Continental rightnow!" He didn't wait for a response, downing and refilling histumbler yet again. He took a seat at the conference table andloosened his tie. "This had better work or the Americans will ownus all … "
"It'll work, Gein," a woman said from the shadows.
The director jumped, spilling some of his gin. "Jesus,Isley! How long have you been lurking there?"
The woman laughed. "Since before your holo meetingbegan. You really should look in the corners when you enter a room."
"Yes, well, I was never very good at field work. Ileave the security to folks like you."
"Folks like me? Mr. Gein, we've known each other fora very long time and you still don't trust me?"
"On the contrary, dear," Mr. Gein answered, fixingMs. Isely a gin also. "I trust you completely. You just scare theshit out of me, is all."
Ms. Isely took the offered glass and nodded her thanks."Scare the shit out of you? I'll take that as a compliment."
"Please do." Mr. Gein raised his glass. "To abrave, new world!"
"Cheers," Ms. Isely responded, clinking her glassagainst his before downing the gin. "Let us hope the Three knowwhat they are doing.
Chapter One
"While the surface records were very authentic, uponfurther investigation it appears there is no true record of yourexistence, Ms … Kramer?" the warden said, his eyes focused onHeather Walton. "I'm guessing Kramer isn't your real name?"
Heather looked about the room. Not a bit of biochrome insight. She reached out, trying to feel any she may not have seen, buther body wasn't responding, at least not to any externalstimulation.
Theyknow,she thought. Timeto go to work.
"You did an excellent job of getting yourself thrownin here without attracting too much attention." The warden's fistwas strong and swift and Heather's head rocked back. "But we'reused to dealing with people like you. We've had the training."
Yep, theyknow.
"You'll find there isn't a scrap of BC on thisentire level. Even your shackles are made of good, old fashionediron. Struggle as you like, you are in that chair until I saydifferent." The warden grinned, his tea-stained teeth barelyvisible in the gloomy light of the cell.
Heather spit blood onto the floor and smiled, matchingthe warden.
"Something funny?" the warden asked, looking back atthe four guards standing behind him, all extremely muscular and onlywearing a basic uniform, unadorned with any BC. They were preparedfor Heather's biochrome manipulative skills. "They aren'tlaughing, so I guess not."
"As far as you know, Ghosts don't exist," Heatherlaughed. "You know that, right? And you've never had one in thisfacility before. I know that for a fact."
"I thought you just said Ghosts don't exist?" thewarden smirked. "How can you know we've never had one here ifthey don't exist?"
"Because you're still alive," Heather glared. "Youreally need to scan better."
"Scan better? I believe our security is more thanadequate." The warden shook his head and motioned for a guard tostep forward. The large man closed in on Heather, his eyes glintingwith violence. Before he could throw the first punch, Heather startedto retch, her torso convulsing as if she would suddenly vomit.
The guard stepped back and looked to the warden. "Ididn't touch her."
"I can see that!" the warden shouted. "Is shechoking? Check her!"
The guard stepped forward again and grabbed Heather bythe jaw, twisting her head back and forth. "What you got in there?Spit it out!"
Heather's retching stopped immediately, obvious shehad thrown something up into her mouth.
The guard reached out and started to pry Heather'smouth apart.
"No! Wait!" the warden ordered, but it was too late.
A thin microfilament of biochrome shot from betweenHeather's lips, piercing the guard's left eye, shooting out theback of his head. A second microfilament worked its way down herface, shoulder, arm and began to work at the shackle on her rightwrist.
"Kill her now!" the warden yelled to the remainingguards and they lunged for Heather.
The microfilament in the dead guard's skull retractedand Heather turned her attention to the other muscled men. She spatquickly and the lead guard fell, his chest pierced by BC. Heatherretracted again and repeated the motion on the next guard. The lastguard was on her before she could spit again, but the shackle on herwrist clicked free and she had him about the throat, crushing hiswindpipe instantly.
The warden lunged for the cell door, his hand reachingfor the simple alarm switch in the tech-free cell, but was tripped upby the line of biochrome now held in Heather's right hand.
"No. Please stay. We have work to do," Heathersnarled as the shackles on her other wrist and ankles fell away.
Two fists to the warden's face and he was stunnedquickly. Heather patted the man down and smiled when she felt thecomforting presence of BC. "Hip replacement? Did you think Iwouldn't notice that?"
The warden's screams never made it passed his throatas Heather slammed her elbow down onto his Adam's apple. His eyesfilled with terror and pain as she formed the BC microfilament into ascalpel and began slicing.
***
The teenagers filed into the classroom, their voicesraised in heated discussions about the latest music, holos andweekend social events.
"Settle down, all of you!" Ms. Tinsdale barked fromher desk. "You may chat after class."
The boys and girls frowned and their voices graduallylessened to whispers as they took their seats.
Ms. Tinsdale stood up and began making notations on thedata board once everyone was seated. The class waited patiently forher to finish, none of them pleased with the words that lit up on theboard.
***
Heather tossed the warden's severed hand and pluckedeyeballs aside, no longer needing them to bypass the security, andducked under the oncoming guard's swing. She brought her fist upand BC shot out, wrapping about the man's neck as she rolled hershoulder, tossing him over her back and onto the corridor's floor.The guard's neck snapped easily, the sound echoing off thecorridor's walls. Heather had the dead man's biochrome baton inher hand and swinging before the second guard registered what washappening. His face caved in from the impact and Heatherinstinctively ducked, letting most of the blood spray over hershoulder. Heather didn't like blood.
Grabbing the second guard's baton as well, Heathershoved through the corridor's security door before it could close,the biometric alarms locking things down as soon as the guards'pulses no longer registered in that level's security system.
"They go to all the trouble of having a BC-free leveland then screw it all up by letting monkeys carry BC batons up here,"she muttered to herself. Seven more guards rushed towards her fromdown the hall, covering the ten meters between them and her quickly,their batons ready. "Bureaucratic amateurs."
On either side inmates cheered, not caring who won thefight, just glad for anything to break up the monotony ofincarceration. Heather bounced from wall to floor to wall, her feetspringing off and propelling her quickly back and forth, confusingthe guards.
The batons Heather held in each hand began to melt andmeld with the rest, the BC changing at her will, each baton takingthe form of a Berretta M9.
Without hesitation she lifted the pistols and fired. Theguards whose chests weren't ripped open by the armor piercing slugsdropped to the floor, screaming into their coms for backup. They wereable to sound the alarms and warn the other guards for only twoseconds, the time it took Heather to close the distance and end theirlives brutally.
Without losing stride, she snatched up more batons,incorporating their mass with the Berettas, the BC melting instantlythen reassembling in the shape of two TG12 sawed-off auto-shotguns.
She hit the corner and dropped, sliding across the floorto the far wall, aiming one shotgun left and one right, firing threerounds each. More guards fell.
Back on her feet, she went over the map of the facilityshe had memorized and tried to place where she was and where sheneeded to go. In milliseconds she had her destination and set offfull speed towards her goal.
***
Ms. Tinsdale stood up from her desk and crossed to thedata board. The fifteen students seated before her watched as shepointed to the words, "League Day: Origins and Explanations".There was an audible groan from the class.
"Now, now, settle down," Ms. Tinsdale said, wavingaway the complaints. "You knew this was coming. We all have to beready for the celebration in three days. Loudon Secondary will be andwe have lost to them the past six League Days. Headmistress Ellis hasexpressed that she shall be quite disappointed if it becomes sevenyears in a row and Gramercy Secondary is the laughing stock of allthe London preparatory schools once again." She turned from thedata board and surveyed the class, settling her eyes on aseventeen-year-old boy busily chatting with the seventeen-year-oldgirl seated next to him at the back of the classroom. "Russell? Canyou tell the class why we celebrate League Day?"