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Posted by Blue Beetle
on 6/17/2009, 10:04 pm
76.84.87.244
The thunder erupts from the sky- a cacophony of deafening sound shaking the heavily reinforced building. I look over at Tim and thank God that we got inside before the storm hit. The history of Millennium is almost as scary as Gotham, or Hub City for that matter. There's something about crazy and evil that seems to correlate; I think I heard that Reed Richards had proven a theorem close to that once. The city was founded by a crazy person, the city planner decided to lay the streets and entire city out in a strange ancient symbol supposed to bring about the apocalypse. I miss Chicago.
"So this is nice." Tim states looking around the lobby, large white fluorescents illuminate the entry way. The bright light all pointing up at the clear glass ceiling, the night sky black as flashes of lightning streak across it. The rain sounds like bullets from an automatic weapon as it begins to pelt the city. I'm sure the glass is thick but the force of each droplet has me seconding guessing myself.
"If you like shallow and flashy, and large plasma TVs and state of the art video presentations..." I say as we stop in front of one of the large monitors that line the entry way. Each plays the same video on a loop, the colors are bright and crisp. The acting stilted and dialog forced, as the actors drone on about the latest offerings. Everything about this place screams irony, which sends my "Beetle" sense into overdrive.
"And beautiful models." Tim finishes for me as a trio of women stand around what look like virtual reality simulators and various cosmetic products. They really cover their bases here, not a stone unturned.
"If you're into that sort of thing." I try to take my eyes off the models in their low cut dresses which emphasize certain....
"So how's Melody?" Tim's words along with the stern elbow to my forearm send my mind to Mel. The way that she moves, her smile even when she is upset with me, that dimple in her cheek.
"She's good. You know, with the stuff and then there's that other stuff. Lots of stuff at the moment." Tim chuckles only half paying attention, he's merely keeping up appearances at this point. So many mannerisms like Bruce. Like Dick. His gaze travels across the ceiling of the room, picking out security cameras, and guards. I catch a glimmer of a holster around one of the waists, which means he either likes the feel or is carrying something extra special. I learned that one all by myself.
"Whatever they're going to be showing must be pretty important." Tim sees the same thing I do as we continue to walk. The press and others behind us, forcing us deeper into the complex.
"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen." The acoustics in this place are pretty nice. Our host, Dr. Fenton Cross stands a red headed assistant behind him; she looks like she was ordered from Stepford. He has a long velvet robe draped over his shoulders. His blond hair is messy, unkempt like he just rolled out of bed, “Welcome to the Tabula Rasa headquarters, please help your selves to whatever you want, everything is on the house. The presentation will start shortly."
"Think Hugh knows his looks been stolen?" Tim asks as the gathered mass claps with applause like this guy is some kind of messiah or something. The sound troubles my ears.
"If you do have any questions please ask any of my lovely assistants, or even Megan here, your pleasure is there job after all." His words are smug with a hint of BWHAHAHAAA underneath. I wonder if this guy ever did work with Max.
"And one day the geek shall inherit the earth." I mutter the words, a grin stretching across Tim's face. Fenton Cross, the Steve Jobs of tomorrow his ideas single handedly putting Tabula Rasa on the map. The audience around goes back to mingling amongst themselves. Tim and I watch our host disappear back into the shadows, an entourage of his assistant and a couple armed guards following him like a pack of dogs.
"Bout that time?" With the rhetorical question out of the way Tim and I begin to make our to the nearest maintenance corridor. Taking my cell out of my pocket, I hold it up to the security scanner. I've programmed my phone with some yet to be released KordOmni firm wear, its a least seven generations a head of anything being sold on the market right now. The click is muffled as the door becomes unlocked.
"Can we help you?" The voice startles me. Putting on the cheesiest smile I have I turn around. Tim's already staring at the two women in front of us. I return the elbow that he delivered to me earlier. A platinum blond in a very strappy and shiny silver dress and her companion a brunette with an equally black dress stand across from us. They not only have a striking resemblance to each other but the red head that was following Cross.
"Trying to find a signal is all. This storm is really fraking with my reception." Tim groans. He hates it when I quote the BSG.
"Well if there is anything that you need," The two women take a step closer to us; their words are almost a purr, a very deep, very sensual purr. "Anything at all. Please don't hesitate to ask."
We watch as they walk away and wait until they begin to talk to other patrons before sliding into the maintenance hallway. It's sterile, gray and seems to go on for what looks to be eternity. We go into the first room that we encounter; few places ever bug the maintenance hallways, and most want to remain ignorant of what really goes on in them. The room is small most likely a break room, a cola machine glows in the back; the kick of it cooling the soda inside is abrasive. We check for any cameras, my phone doing an electronic sweep, Tim relying on the skills he's learned. Nothing.
"We going to talk about what just happened back there?" Tim begins to unbutton his shirt, his work clothes underneath.
"Rather not, you?" I do the same, the belt on my pants flapping against the loops around my waist as I pull it out. My black suit pants falling to the ground, my blue legs standing exposed.
"No, I'm good." Tim slips on his domino mask over his eyes, ready for whatever is going to be coming our way. Probably going to be a lot no matter what.
"Never mention it again?" I pull my mask over my head, the alloy mail that makes up the inner lining presses down my short hair. The room around me taking on a golden hue. Taking our clothes we shove them into a near by trash can, we put them on the company card anyway.
"That's a plan." I follow Robin's lead as we make our way back into the maintenance corridor; it's still quiet both of us are oblivious to the storm outside or the party going on. "You bring a map?"
"I brought the sandwiches, thought you were bringing the map?"
The wet tongue is rough against his cheek, the salvia that covers it burns a little. Chase Stein stirs into consciousness as Old Lace watches over him like a protective mother.
"UHHHHH, God, don't let me do that again. Next time we go peacefully, I swear nothing is worth this headache." The smell of the sewer fills his nostrils, the vomit that rushes from his stomach, stinging his entire sinus cavity. The genetically modified Deinonychus from the future watches stoically. "No need to get up- think you've helped enough."
Chase looks around for his friends; he hoped that they had been able to follow him. That they got away. Nothing. He and Old Lace had gotten separated from them in the fight, with, whoever was after them this week. The sedatives having hit him as he got into the sewers.
"You must have worked them through your system faster?" The dinosaur seems to nod. "Of course you did. Guess we've got ourselves in pretty deep."
Chase begins to walk down the sewer tunnel, in no particular direction. His friends out there, in trouble and he's in the sewers, talking to a dinosaur. His thoughts turn slowly to her, his compass, always knowing what to do.
"Don't look at me like that. I can't believe I'm going to do this either. I know it's what she would do. So what’s the number again, 867-5309?"
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