Blood Sisters

Paul Desnoyers did not think his day could get any worse. He had all four of his Special Marshals and half the regular Marshals service out looking for any leads about where Victor Davos, The Silhouette and Michaela were. He had seven dead correctional officers, and his office had dropped the ball in protecting Dr. Sarah Reed, who was assaulted nearly an hour after the fugitives escaped Ft. Miles. She had been in surgery for hours now, and it did not look good at all.

Paul wished that he could be at the hospital with her. He had moved one of his D-Day remote units on site to guard Dr. Reed in case Michaela came back to finish the job. All he had to do was press a button and his VR system would make it seem like he was there, piloting the unit. But it was not the same.

In order to optimize his response time, and better control his remote units, Paul was commanding operations from the cockpit of his master D-Day unit. As 6” tall Paul listened to the chatter and gave commands he was very grateful to M-Tech for developing the Vox system for his headset. Both he and Titan had a similar problem, when they changed size so dramatically their ears heard the world differently and their vocal cords made their voices sound either too high or too low when they got smaller or larger. Similar to beta-cloth, but less bullet-resistant, M-Tech had developed the special fabric they wore, called gamma-cloth, that would shrink or grow with them, and had used similar technology to make the communications headsets with the Vox system, which compensated for their different size ears and vocal cords so that they sounded normal, and heard others normally.

The technology for both was very impressive, both beta and gamma cloth was fabric made from superconductive metals in a powdered form which were contained in carbon nano-tubes. It allowed their clothes to be powered by their bodies own electrical currents, and had different fibers for different applications such as batteries, sensors, data storage, and so on. In the case of the gamma-cloth this smart fabric could shrink or expand with the wearer due to the way it could change the molecular arrangement of itself. This functionality is what made the gamma-cloth less protective, especially when stretched or compressed. Of course, the mass of the fabric did not change, so when Paul was small, his suit felt much heavier.

Paul already felt like he was directing about all he could handle when he got a priority message on his screen. Paul grimaced when he saw who was calling. He opened the communications channel. “Hello this is Marshal Desnoyers”. A woman's voice came over his headset “please hold the line for a priority call from Deputy Attorney General Welkowitz”. Paul grumbled under his breath, perhaps his day could get worse after all, he hated getting a call from the boss.

“Paul how are you?” Carl Welkowitz said evenly. “Good morning sir, as you are most likely aware we are pretty busy at the moment.” “Yes I am Marshal. Unfortunately, I need you to divert some of your resources to another threat.” Paul bit his tongue. “With all due respect, sir, what could be a greater threat then Michaela and her new friends?” There was a pause before Welkowitz said “We potentially have a rogue New-Hum gamma on our hands, Paul. Perhaps even an omega. She has killed at least one man who was a federal agent, injured 20 or so civilians, trashed a police station and injured nearly 12 police officers and detectives. To top that off; Jenny Goldstar is in the hospital right now with broken ribs, a punctured lung and internal bleeding. Seems she tried to stop this rogue gamma and got more then she bargained for”.

Paul was shocked. “How... I mean, Jenny has an impenetrable force-field, who could break her ribs?” Carl replied quickly “I think you are beginning to see the problem.” Paul sighed. “What do you want me to do about Jenny's aunt, when she hears about this, she is going to want to be... diverted.”

“That's your call, Paul. Send two of your Special Marshals to track this girl down, I am sending you everything we have on her. When you locate either this rogue New-Hum, or Michaela you can pull your team back together, in the meantime, spread your net.” Paul shouted in his head at his boss THIS is why I told you I needed more agents you jackass! but all he said was “Yes. Sir.”

Paul switched over his comm channel. “Titan, North Star, return to the ops center for a new assignment, on the double”. The usual backtalk and gripes came back then Paul said “Jenny is hurt, get back here now, we have another problem.” Paul looked over the scarce data that the DAG sent him... “Cricket, huh... you gotta be kidding me, fifteen years old?!” he muttered. D-Day wondered why this fell in his lap instead of the NSA Special Response Team (N-SART), not that they could handle it anyway. He looked up “Crickets” custody status and saw it was listed as ”classified”. Paul cursed and shook his head, this is just getting better and better he thought bitterly. With a sigh of frustration he prepared a quick briefing file for his two Marshals, then sent it to their comm interface.

For many long minutes Paul sat quietly in his small cockpit, his weary face lit only by the multiple LED displays from his control panels. The audio chatter kept filtering in through the comm system and he turned it down so he could think. This whole situation had a stink to it that he just didn't like. “Classified my ass” Paul muttered to himself. Someone, somewhere had fucked up, and now his team had an extra mess to clean up. Unable to shake his frustration, Paul scrambled to find anything, anything he could do that would be useful.

He settled on Jenny Goldstar, it was hard to imagine the vivacious young girl, who had lived such a charmed life until now, being badly hurt, being... mortal like everyone else. Too many people had died today. Too many people were hurt on his watch. Paul resolved “better safe then sorry” and sent one of his few remaining D-Day units to guard the daughter of Earth's mightiest hero.

***

The sun was high in the sky when a thick pool of blood started to squeeze under the door of the hotel room. Victor was pacing that room, glowering as he alternatively looked out the window, and at the banal morning talk show The Silhouette had on. “What is your name anyway, Silhouette?” he asked curtly. The Silhouette looked at him askance with a devilish smirk then back at her show. Victor felt a wave of interest for the shadow woman wash over him. “Heh” he muttered. He tried to shake it off. The Silhouette was starting to get under his skin, more then just the simple attraction he commonly felt for an exotic beauty like her. Victor glanced back at her and found she was glancing back with those moonlight eyes. She smiled and looked back to the TV. Dammit the dead man thought.

It was then that Victor saw the viscous pool of blood as it spread over the hotel floor like crimson mercury. He frowned. “Welcome back Michaela” he said flatly. The pool flowed upward and took a female shape which smiled coldly at him. After a moment, the blood form was gone and the vampiress was standing there. Victor felt an unwelcome bolt of desire for her and turned away. Michaela laughed at him.

The Silhouette clicked off the TV and glared at the vampire, her pale eyes taking on a frosty edge. “Are you done fucking around cabrón?” The Dark Lady scoffed. Almost too fast to see Michaela crossed the room and got right in The Silhouette's face, her ruby eyes flaring. With an edge of feral menace the vampiress growled at her “you little cunt, I'll rip out your still beating dark heart and the last thing you'll ever see will be my teeth as I feast on it!” Michaela caressed the side of The Silhouette's cheek with her razor sharp claws like a demon lover as she glared right into her eyes.

Silhouette recoiled in horror and reflexively reached into darkness. Inky black tendrils whipped out of Michaela's shadow and pulled the vampiress back and away. Michaela gave a cold wicked laugh and just mocked The Silhouette, even as the tendrils snaked around her legs and torso, holding her in place.

“That's enough”. Victor cut in. “We need to cooperate for now, you two can play with each other later”. Michaela licked her blue lips, showing a hint of fang at The Silhouette, who just looked ill. The Midnight Mistress turned away from the vampiress and the black tentacles released her, sliding back into the shadow they came from. Silhouette cursed under her breath in Spanish. Victor laughed and spoke back to her in kind. Silhouette relaxed some and smiled. Michaela just scowled at the pair, not understanding a word of it. She glided across the room, wincing uncomfortably as she crossed through a cone of sunlight that was filtering in. Michaela snapped the dusty drapes closed and sat in a stained old chair that was against the wall by the windows. She looked back at Silhouette and Davos with an icy gaze.

The Silhouette just ignored her, as best she could anyway. Michaela was hard to ignore as her seductive allure was a constant presence. It was hard to tell if it was something she was actively doing, or if was just part of her vampiric mutation.

“What's our next move, Muerte?” Silhouette asked, looking over at Victor, who also seemed to be doing his best to ignore Michaela. “OK” he began, looking back and forth at the two women. “We have eluded capture for the moment. I have an agreement to fulfill with Michaela, as I mentioned to you before Silhouette. In exchange for her assistance getting out of Fort Miles I will help Michaela get revenge on Miss Liberty”. Victor watched The Silhouette for a few moments, trying to gauge her reaction. It was hard to read her exotic features. “Obviously, such a task will not be easy, but it turns out that Ashton's death will ultimately serve me as well” Michaela smiled gruesomely. Victor gazed at the vampire despite himself and continued. “We needed your help to get out of Shay's as well, Silhouette, but you made no commitments”. He caught himself looking her over. She smirked at him. “However, I would welcome your assistance, and as I know you like cash, I can assure you that one of the first things we need is bankroll...” Michaela scoffed “I don't need money, I don't wish to waste my time with that”. The vampiress pointed with disdain at The Silhouette and added “and she has never killed anyone, there is no smell of death on her. What makes you think this coward will murder now when all she has ever done is run away?”. Silhouette seethed, snarling back at Michaela and snapping up to her feet. Victor looked up at the ceiling and took a breath, holding out his hand in mute request to The Midnight Mistress to let it pass. “Michaela, Taking down Allison Ashton will not be easy, we will need Silhouette's help and we can't steal all the equipment I will need to do it in a reasonable amount of time”. Victor held his gaze at Michaela “If you want your vengeance sooner rather then later, we need her, and I need cash”. Michaela just growled in annoyance. Silhouette chimed in, still on her feet and glaring at the vampire “Why do you have it in so much for Ashton anyway Michaela?” The vampiress looked over at The Dark Lady slowly. “I don't need a reason to kill people, the killing itself is rewarding in so-many-ways, you should try it” Her voice chilled the room as she bit off each word. “In Allison's case, tasting her flesh and drinking her down to the bones will be extra sweet, I will savor it. It was she and her sycophants that locked me up in that cursed mountain.” The vampire smiled, all fangs. “When I dump her shriveled corpse on the Washington Mall, those heroes that remain will remember why they fear the night.”

Silhouette frowned, she really, REALLY disliked that... thing. She feared Michaela, and she hated that. Also, her evil villain creature cliches were tiresome. Outwardly she just shrugged “Well, taking out Miss Liberty would bring me a lot of clout.” Silhouette did not believe Victor really intended to kill Ashton, but she did not know what his game was. The Silhouette glanced back to Victor “...and I like the idea of a smart man around to help me plan a few heists. I'd rather not get caught again myself.” The dark lady with moonlight eyes smiled impishly at Victor, who twisted his lip. Silhouette was trouble. He was starting to actually like her, and that always, ALWAYS complicated things. He was more then a century old, and women could still make his blood run hot, threatening to thaw out the heart he needed cold.

He sighed. “Right, so, we need to find a better base of operations then this...” Michaela interrupted with her smooth tone “Leave that to me, I can be very... convincing”. Victor looked over at her “we can't leave a trail of blood to follow, Michaela, so if you could please...” She laughed, Victor shivered. “Don't worry” she said coyly “I'll be nice”. “Fine” Victor said evenly. “Like both of you, I have been locked away, so I will need few days to get my bearings and come up with a plan”. He cracked some tension out of his neck. “That will also serve to cool the heat from our escape.”

“So what do I do in the meantime, Muerte?” The Silhouette asked pointedly. “Just keep you company?” Victor closed his eyes and took a breath. “Just don't get into trouble, all-right?” She looked at him all mischief. “Well, that won't be much fun for either of us, now will it?”. Victor looked down at the floor. Michaela laughed at him. The Silhouette cocked her head and smiled. Davos Muerte shook his head and ground his teeth. These women were distracting. “Dammit” he muttered.

***

Sarah Reed woke in darkness. Slowly coming to her senses she first became aware of the pain. Pain everywhere, all different kinds of pain. In a panic she realized she could not move... and she could not feel her legs. She could not open her eyes, she felt cloth... bandages covering her entire head... her entire body. Then came the nausea. It was all too much, too much. Her consciousness slipped away again.

Several times Sarah rallied against her sedation to wake briefly into torment before slipping back into blissful oblivion, a dreamless drug induced sleep of death. Every time it was the same. Darkness. Pain. Paralysis. Nausea.

After an eternity, Dr. Reed started to come to her senses and began assessing her situation. It was clear to her that she was in traction. Her face... Sarah shook as the memory of the vampire's assault gripped her. If there were not a tube in her throat she would have screamed. Darkness again as her mind retreated in horror.

Eventually Sarah realized there was a woman's voice talking to her... “Dr. Reed... Sarah, I am Dr. Cooper. You are at New Avalon Hospital...” She drifted. “...have reduced your sedation, and there is good... you are breathing on your own... more surgeries needed.” Sarah faded in and out. “...and reconstructive plastic surgery on your face, there is...” Sarah could not hear. “...lumbar spine, it is too soon to tell if the paralysis will be...” she fought to stay awake. “...your injuries were so severe... rehabilitation... optimistic of at least partial...”. Oblivion took Sarah again.

As the days passed, Sarah had more and more useful consciousness, and the pain lessened slightly. She could move her arms somewhat, her spine and neck were broken in three places, and her skull was bolted into place. She could not feel anything below her waist. She had undergone several surgeries and her face and body were still covered in bandages. Only her hearing oriented her to the outside world, everything else was pain or darkness.

During the quiet hours of the night Sarah lay awake, trapped in her living nightmare. Full of dread and chilling futility, feeling the last vesitges of hope fading from her. I want to die, please, please just let me die she thought. There was no answer but the silence as Sarah prayed for death.

Then, there at the edge of oblivion was something new. Something in the dark and the quiet, deep down in her mind, it stirred. A pinprick cracked open some hidden dam, and it came trickling out. A terror rose, and Sarah tried to stop it, to seal the dam back up, to protect herself, to keep herself safe from what festered inside. The trickle built into a torrent as the dam crumbled and it began to fill her, spreading from the hidden depths of her mind. The dam had stood strong and silent for years, stretching back to her girlhood, holding the terror at bay. Now a black flood swept through the canyons of her mind, sweeping away the rocks which had covered her buried secrets.

Sarah's body shook as the memories of a hundred violations, large and small were laid bare, raw and bleached like a skeleton baking in the sun. More and more her body trembled, straining against the straps and medical metal that restrained her. Sarah's head was spinning and what remained of her face contorted. It was sweeping her away, there would be nothing left of her. Sarah was a terrified girl again, alone, drowning in the swelled deluge, a lifetime of silent suffering finally flowing free. Sarah gasped, shaking as her lungs burned for air and hot tears burst out from scarred ducts. It felt like her skull swelled, tearing itself apart at the seams where bone met bone.

Then, in the hopeless graveyard at the edge of sanity it finally rose. Sarah released a thundering, spine shaking, banshee cry as her soul purged twenty years of doubt and pain, fear and shame. In the pregnant stillness that followed, only it remained. A rush, a soothing new companion, a new purpose. It filled all the trenches in her mind where the fear had lurked. It catapulted the scared child cowering within Sarah screeching like a hawk into the dawn. It was rage. Simple, burning, uncompromising, murderous rage. Within her battered and broken body, Sarah was reborn.