Freelance Immortals

Tao of Hypertime Home > Original Works > Earth-9 > Freelance Immortals > Chapter 1

Freelance Immortals - Part I

Prologue

Doctor Albert Zersoiten looked out at the harbor in satisfaction. So long. So long waiting.

And now, he was free.

"Doctor?" His nurse, a fine woman with considerable potential and little concern for what the mundane folk around her thought, approached her charge with caution. Even in a burned, crippled body, Dr. Zersoiten was no man to trifle with. "Doctor, the readings you were monitoring--you'll want to see--"

"That's all right, Ms. Shane," Zersoiten said, his scarred face shifting as he did something rare for him.

He smiled.

A figure much like his own, garbed in armor and wrapped in a black cape, approached. The 'body' within melted away, and the armor flowed around him. Nurse Linda Shane backed away.

"Doctor...?"

"Destroyer," he responded. Then he chuckled, an even rarer event. "Doctor Destroyer. How...amusing. The Defender will like that, I imagine." Then he turned his attention to his nurse. "You have served me well for many years, even to the point of allowing your own research to wait at times." He raised his spear, and a rack of chemicals floated out of the South American citadel. The chemicals began to glow.

"You are to be rewarded."

There was an explosion, and screaming louder than the flames, and the terrible satisfaction of the Destroyer.

[My first act of creation, accompanied by my first act of destruction. How...poetic.] The Destroyer laughed as Linda Shane, covered in dark green scales and rapidly growing wings emerging from her back, stumbled toward the doctor.

"Z...Zersoiten?"

"Zersoiten is no more. Now...there is only the Destroyer. Doctor Destroyer!"

* * *

Chapter One: Councils

A storm had gathered on the outskirts of Bay City as the Freelance Immortals returned to Earth-9.

"Ah...home sweet home--oof--" Roland said as he opened the door, and was promptly trampled by three puppies, two wolves, and the potted palm tree that was the cause for Cutter and Leetah chasing their children. Roland sighed as Morgan laughed. "Well, it could have been worse. Could've been droves."

He picked himself up and dusted himself off as the wolves quickly rounded up their pups, and three forlorn grey bundles dragged the tree back. They sent an apology to Roland and reassurances to Morgan that the palm tree was the only casualty, despite how badly the pups had been spooked by the flash of light heralding the appearance of the strange rocks in the living room.

Roland nodded back, and began to walk in again. Then he stopped.

"Rocks?"

The immortals entered the house, and there they were. Three data crystals. A quick scan from Roland's psychic powers revealed more than he ever wanted to know about the Nephandi, and that was just the tip of the iceberg--but Z'On'Dar had delivered. This was the proof they had so desperately needed. Scanning a mere handful of the people on this list would prove the conspiracy--a larger thing than Roland had _ever_ suspected--and break the Nephandi's hold over the three factions of Light.

Now all they had to do was convince them all to act on it.

"Aeon won't do it," Roland muttered, pacing slowly. "They won't scan _anyone_ unless they're already certain of their best interests in the matter. And Concordia won't do it--that lot will be too worried about losing face. That leaves only one group--supposedly the most feared conquerors in the Tellurian....

"The Council of Nine."

"Well, despite what the others think, according to the crystals they're actually our _best_ chance at proving the truth and making peace," Morgan points out.

Roland sighs. "I hope you're right, Morgan. I hope you're right..."

* * *

The Stranger Coffee House, in South Bay City, the area formerly known as Redwood City....

"Mercedes?" Roland called, knocking.

"We're closed, Phoenix," a voice echoed from within.

"We're here on...official business, Ms. Targer. It's been, ah, aeons since we talked, if you know what I mean," Roland replied.

There was a brief pause, then the doorlatch clicked and the owner of the Stranger Coffee House, a woman with dark skin and a bright demeanor, appeared before them dressed in a Berkeley T-shirt and dark jeans. "'We?'" She asked with a faint smile.

"Ah," Roland chuckled. "So much for my manners. Mercedes, this is Morgan Greywolf. My wife. Morgan, Mercedes Targer, one-time member of the Lodge--excuse me, the Traditions--and proprietor of the single most bizarre place in Bay City--and believe me, that's SAYING something."

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Greywolf," Mercedes said, extending her hand. "You've raised quite a hornet's nest, you know. I like that."

Morgan smiled and took Mercedes' hand. "Nice to know my work is appreciated. And please, call me Morgan."

Mercedes smiled. "Work like that is _always_ appreciated by folks like me, Morgan." Then she looked at Roland, serious again."You've never come on 'official business' before, Roland. That bad?"

"Actually, no. Better. A LOT better." Roland held up one of the crystals. "I think we can end the war."

Mercedes' eyes widened slightly. "You mean take down the Technocracy?"

Roland sighed. "There _is_ no Technocracy, Mercedes, only Aeon Covenant and the Order of Reason. And I know about the Council of Nine."

Mercedes blinked once. Then she nodded and walked back into the Stranger. Roland and Morgan exchanged glances and followed.

"Man, I never get tired of seeing this place," Roland chuckled. "It's like a cross between Ogra's workshop in Dark Crystal and the Addams Family mansion." Indeed, a device much like the spinning planetscape in Ogra's lab, only smaller, hung from the ceiling in between a shark with a cybernetic eye and what looked for all the world like a still-moving foot.

"How much do you know?" Mercedes asked, continuing into a back room.

"That the Traditions aren't the reactionary tyrants the Nephandi have set out to make them look like," Roland replied, "and that Captain Carter trusts them. That's more than enough for me."

"Not they," Mercedes admitted.

Roland blinked. "I thought you _left_ the Lodge. Sorry--Traditions."

"Actually, we do occasionally use the term 'Lodge' amongst ourselves. Younger magi often take the word with a vicious pride, much as Americans took the song 'Yankee Doodle Dandy' and made it their own." Mercedes opened the wall, and a glowing circular gateway appeared before them all. "We use this place as neutral ground. It's what you'd call a 'Mantle.' We call them 'Horizon Realms.' This one's called the Spy's Demise."

Roland blinked, then smiled. "I've heard of it." He sends Morgan a 'flash' packet of information on the Demise: a VR pub (though it _is_ possible to project the body into the Digital Web) where one can find nearly _any_ information...for a price...and absolute neutrality is enforced. "The Order hasn't been there in years, last I heard, but I've always wanted to visit, myself." Roland blinked. "Mercedes, what's wrong?"

Mercedes looked vaguely ill. "Roland, we've been seeing Technocrats in the Demise regularly since day one." She took a long, hard look at the crystals. "Are the Nephandi _that_ widespread?"

Roland concentrated. "No...but they _are_ that concerned about the Demise, apparently. There hasn't been an Order scientist or a Concordia mage in there since the '89 Whiteout." His eyes opened. "This is bad. The Nephandi, or their unwitting pawns in some cases, account for approximately half of the people that go to the Demise."

Mercedes thinks deeply, but briefly. "All the more reason to do this in the Demise. I have a hunch that the proprietors won't like the Nephandi running off half their customers at _all._ Once your data comes to light--and after it's in the Demise, there'll be no escaping it--the Corrupt Ones will be on the run."

Roland nods. "Well, that's the plan, anyway." He turns and holds out a hand to Morgan. "So. Ready to take a byte out of crime?"

Morgan winced. She glared at her husband, created a handful of peanuts, and flung them at him.

Roland accepted most of this as his due, but apparently for the sole purpose of showing off, he caught one in his teeth. "Mmm. No salt. Oh well."

Morgan smiled innocently. "I wouldn't _dream_ of a-salting you, my love."

That time it was Roland's turn to wince, and the peanuts began to levitate, aimed at Morgan.

"IloveyouRolandpleasedon'thurtme," Morgan said as one word, wide-eyed and in her cutest voice.

Mercedes just sighed. "Don't mind me, I'll just stand here, waiting for you two to finish throwing nuts at each other so we can save the world..."

Roland mock-scowled at Morgan. ^I'll get you later.^

^Promise?^ Morgan said, her 'cute' voice taking on sultry undertones.

"Lead on," Roland said to Mercedes, ignoring Morgan's last comment.

* * *

There were nine of them, of course.

A woman with her hair always blown by the wind, even here, represented the martial-arts sect called the Akashic Brotherhood. A rabbi wore the sunburst of the Celestial Chorus. A woman wearing an incredibly skimpy bikini and a choker (that looked suspiciously like a collar) clearly sat here in the name of the Cult of Ecstasy. A somber man with haunted eyes bore a totem stick of the Dream-speakers. A slender woman who looked like a living dagger sat for the Euthanatos. A man who looked to be middle-aged, with the weight of the Middle Ages on his shoulders, bore a Seal of Solomon--the mark of the Order of Hermes. A distracted woman in a lab coat printed with the Sons of Ether's symbol continued her experiments by palmtop. A lady dressed in simple tunic and dress watched an herb grow from her hand--the Verbena, holding her Tradition's namesake. And a dark man with laughing eyes created the room around them constantly--a testament to the power, flash and skill of the Virtual Adepts who had made the Digital Web their home.

They sat in a semicircle facing Roland, Morgan and Mercedes.

"Crystals," the Hermetic sighed. "You say you have the revelation of the ages, and you bring us crystals. If I were the type to lower myself so, I could buy such things at one of those 'New Age' stores for $5.95."

"They're data crystals," Roland said again, holding his fraying temper in check. "You plug them into an appropriate system, they show you the information on them. You're in the Web, surely you know how disks work in a computer."

"Easy," the Virtual Adept said, holding his hand up. "Let's just look at what the immortal brought us, and _then_ judge him to hell and gone, all right?"

"So says the computer wizard who calls himself Dante," the Hermetic chuckled. But no one argued. The crystals floated into the air, and the gathered Awakened scrutinized the data carefully.

When they were done, Dante was barely holding apoplectic rage in check, the Hermetic stared into space in shock, the Ecstatic was crying, and the others just gaped.

"By the One," the rabbi whispered. "We've been used. The Nephandi have played us for fools for centuries. They must have been rolling on the floor, laughing themselves silly, while we worked very carefully at neutralizing one another."

"That does seem," the Akashic replied, "to be the way of it."

"We have to get Aeon and Concordia here, talking," Roland said slowly. "We can make peace, and put an end to this conspiracy, but only if you all TALK."

"I could always call another meeting," Morgan said simply.

"Yeah, and watch what we've got fall apart when we tell them that we're inviting the Trads," Roland sighed.

"Who says I have to tell them?" Morgan replied, smiling as innocently as she could.

Roland smiled back, not at all innocently. "Hmm...I wonder if Captain Carter would be willing to come back to the Aeon council just one more time..."

"We've _got_ to have cameras running. This will be _too_ priceless," Morgan said, her smile growing wicked....

* * *

"This is absurd," Medea muttered. "I hold you in high regard, Lady Morgan, but had Captain Carter not lent his voice to yours, even I would have refused to come."

David, the High King of Concordia, pressed one hand on Medea's shoulder. Though David was himself not much older than Roland, Medea sighed and relented.

"I am inclined to agree," the female projection of Iteration X added. "There is no logic in meeting in this place. It is the dueling ground of the Lodge and Oblivion, and the Order has no place in it any longer."

"Hear them out, Computer," Carter urged. "There is logic in this choice, and it will make sense in due time."

"As you say, Paragon Carter," ItX replied, as neutrally as before.

"Gentlemen, ladies," Morgan said, raising an eyebrow to make sure no other terms were necessary. At a nod from ItX and a tiny dragon on David's shoulder, she continued. "Roland has managed to gain access to vital information on the nature of your conflicts."

"You helped a little," Roland replied dryly. His tone makes it clear that 'a little' is staggering understatement.

Morgan smiled. "Regardless. Intelligence that has proven most enlightening has come to our attention." Her smile vanished as she called the crystals' VR representations into existence. "These data crystals hold all the dark lore of the Nephandic realm. All of the information herein can be independently confirmed." She spared a glance at ItX, who nodded perfunctorily. She motioned with her hand, and the crystals light up.

In turn, each of the envoys (eight with the Order, nine from Concordia) gazed into the crystals; while reactions differed, some level of shock was evident on every face.

There was a long pause.

"THIS IS--IT'S--IT'S ABSURD!" Raga, Paragon of the Anopheles, spluttered as she glared at the Freelance Immortals. "Self-evident, my halo!"

"For once, I agree with Aeon," Islington, a member of the Umbral Underground, added with a curt nod. Both stood and took a step toward the door.

Each found themselves facing fifteen weapons, spells, psifields, and other forces of destruction.

"If you can refute this information, _in open council_," Morgan said in a perfectly even voice, "You're welcome to try."

"Then, of course, you are free to go," Oscar Hamilton, chief of operations of the Order's Men in Black, added calmly. "Not that either of you would object to being scanned first."

"Oh, and the exits are all being watched--even the 'back doors' in the coding," Roland replied with a dark smile. "Dante."

The legendary Virtual Adept entered, followed (each from separate entrances) by an Akashic built like a human whipcord, the Ecstatic and Etherite who had attended the earlier meeting, a man who looked for all the world like a Plains tribal warrior, and a woman in a green robe, carrying a thick blade, and bearing an inner fire. Mercedes followed the Plains Dreamspeaker, a satisfied smile on her face.

The representatives of the Order and Concordia (save the two under the gun) looked around coolly. "Roland. Morgan. You can explain, I presume?" Jason asked calmly.

"That should be obvious, if you read the section on the so-called 'Lodge.' They call themselves the Traditions, or the Council of Nine, and as the most tolerant of any behind the Masquerade, were targeted the most by Nephandic propaganda." Roland motioned to Dante. "I had my own doubts. Half an hour talking to this man removed them. I suggest you do the same."

There was a long, expectant pause. Neither Raga nor Islington dared to speak. No one else said a word, either, perhaps not wanting the tension to become an explosion.

"This _is_ absurd," Carter said, exasperated, and fields of force and spirit sprang up around the two infiltrators. "Are we going to talk, or are we going to stand here looking for each others' vital organs?"

Mercedes chuckled. "You know, I was a big fan of yours as a kid. Now I remember why."

High King David nodded. "We do have much to talk about, including finding common ground..." David's glance turned cold as he regarded the immortal Raga and the mage Islington. "...including what to do with those who have impeded our awareness for so long."

Roland smiled as the Nephandi, who had only moments ago been powerful leaders, squirmed in their tiny prisons. ^Yes! We did it!^

^Yes. We did,^ Morgan smiled in return. ^This was just a birth. How the child grows remains to be seen.^

* * *

Epilogue

"It has happened, Al'Aswad," a woman who looked like clay shaped into a man's fondest dream said, bowing as she trembled.

Al'Aswad, Dark Oracle of the true Nephandi and master of human darkness, sighed and sipped from a goblet. "Pity. It has gone so well, for so long. Tell Gaiasbane that he may begin his war on the wolfmen who serve Gaia." He paused briefly. "Set is dead, I presume?"

"Not yet, Great Master," the woman replied, "but...HE...is loose once again. Set should be no more by--"

"What?" Al'Aswad asked, gazing calmly at the woman. She shook with fear. "The Destroyer...is free?" She nodded, and Al'Aswad sighed. "Pity. Move the Caul to Malfeas. Even _I_ will not move my next pawn until the hand of the Destroyer is revealed."

* * *

Dr. Destroyer and his newest ally, the woman once known as Linda Shane, stared almost fondly at a building that held only computer equipment. "So. It begins. The last remnants of my sole mistake will soon be wiped from the earth, and the enemies who would exploit my work are hunted by every hand. Just as I myself foretold."

"And now, Destroyer?" Shane asked.

Destroyer patted her shoulder. "Now? Now the world will tremble. I release you, my Gremlin. Find the Defender and Lady Solitaire. Bring me to them. We shall cut them off from their other-worldly allies, divide what has been united, and grip the world..." his hand tightened on the Spear of Wotan. "...in the hands of the Destroyer. Doctor Destroyer." He chuckled, as if amused by the last, then motioned with his other hand, as if tossing something casually. "Go."

The woman, now scaled and winged, launched herself into the sky.

"Soon, Champions. Soon. We shall clash again, and the world will shake with our struggles. The world will be as it was meant to once more!"

Destroyer began to laugh as Gremlin faded into the distance.

PREV - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - NEXT

Tao of Hypertime Home | Original material | Links | Professional site / portfolio | Site search