Robert Crane - Soulless

I turned to look at our trainer and he stepped forward, a folder in his hand. “In the last twenty-four hours there were a string of convenience store robberies from Gillette, Wyoming across the Interstate 90 corridor in South Dakota that have caught our attention.”

Scott snorted, and when we all looked at him, his face went red. “Sorry. It’s just funny to hear I-90 described as a corridor. It’s a big, long stretch of dusty plains and nothing.”

Parks stepped between us and set the folder on the desk, opening it to reveal some photos. “Corridor or not, this could be a problem. No fatalities so far, but there were assaults during each of the robberies. The one in South Dakota included an assault on a local police officer. Several concussions for the store clerks, some trouble remembering what happened, including the assailant, who,” he coughed, “appears to have overpowered all the victims without a weapon.” He pointed to one of the photos. “This clerk was lucky: his head nearly went through the counter, but he lived.”

I stared at the picture he indicated. The shelves behind the counter were trashed, the glass broken, and blood stains ran in a circular splatter down the surface. It looked like whatever had happened had been painful. “You think it’s a meta.”

Parks paused before answering. “Yeah. It’s the Sherriff’s Deputy in Draper that puts it over the top for us. He was knocked out before he could draw a weapon or react. That’s not normal. Assuming he was following procedure, he wouldn’t have let someone get so close to him.” He looked at each of us in turn. “We’ve seen this sort of pattern before. It’s probably a young meta, a junior hellion who’s getting hold of his oats, thinks he’s a badass, not quite ready to cross into the realm of killing just yet, but getting there.”

“Probably dangerous if cornered,” Ariadne said, leaning on the desk with both hands. “M-Squad is being dispatched to help some of our agents from the Texas branch deal with a severely dangerous meta that’s wreaking havoc in western Kansas, and our other agents are on assignments, which leaves us with no one to follow up on these incidents.”

I perked up and saw Scott and Kat do the same. “No one?” My question was tentative, and I was reminded of the times when I would get Mom to break her rigid and inflexible rules. I called those occasions miracles, because they didn’t happen very often.

Ariadne’s mouth became a thin line. “We’re strained. Meta activity is up – way up. We’re spending a lot of time chasing ghosts lately – things that don’t pan out.” She brought a hand up to push her hair back and I caught a glimpse of something, written hard across the faded lines of her face. Ariadne wasn’t old, more like middle age, but in that moment she sure as hell looked it. “We have no one else to send, and this needs to be followed up on. Congratulations.” Her eyes bored into each of us in turn. “You’re up.”

“This is serious business,” Parks said, his arms folded as he stood apart from Ariadne and Old Man Winter. “You’re not kids anymore and I vouched for you, told ‘em you’re ready to give it hell. Don’t take any stupid chances, and watch each other’s backs.”

I swallowed my excitement. “What do want us to do, exactly?”

Ariadne exchanged a look with Parks. “The last robbery was about three hundred miles south of the Twin Cities, at six o’clock this morning, in Owatonna, Minnesota.”

“I know where that is.” Scott was awake with a little excitement. “They’ve got an awesome outdoors store down there—”

“You’re not going down there to go shopping.” Ariadne cut him off without mercy. “You’re going down there to ask questions and establish a direction to head.” She opened a packet and slid the contents across the desk to us. I saw my face on a driver’s license, as well as one for Scott and Kat. There were also three leather holders that looked a lot like wallets, but when I picked one up and flipped it open it held the credentials of an FBI Agent named Katrina Ahern, with a picture of Kat.

I held it up and dangled it in the air in mild surprise. “Impersonating a federal agent is a felony.”

Ariadne met my stare, grim and serious. “It’s real. Your names and pictures are in the FBI database and you’ll pass muster unless you do something deeply stupid. My advice?” She let a little half-smile loose as she said it.

“Don’t do anything deeply stupid,” I said, staring at the FBI ID with my picture in it. “You said these are real—”

“They’ll even get you into an FBI field office if you had some reason to go there,” Parks said. “I wouldn’t recommend it, though, because you’ll likely have to answer questions you won’t want to. These are so you can bypass local law enforcement if they give you any guff, and to get civilians to answer your questions. Now, you all look like friggin’ kids, but we’ll dress you up professionally and that oughta take care of most of the problem.”

I stared at the Driver’s License with my picture on it. I wondered idly why I’d been given it, then realized it fit my new name, Sienna Clarke. I also noticed it added about five years onto my birthdate. I tried not to think about the implications of being twenty-three years old in a single stroke.

“All this is part of your cover story.” Ariadne’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “You’re rookie agents, chasing down leads on a robber that’s crossed interstate lines.”

“What happens if we run across the real agents who are investigating it?” I asked because I was curious. I had a feeling it would be bad.

Parks smiled. “According to the FBI’s computers, agents Clarke, Green and Ahern,” he nodded at each of us in turn, “are the only ones assigned to this case. Your only issues will be the ones you make for yourselves, which is why Ariadne was cautioning you not to make a spectacle.”

“So you want us to track this guy down?” Kat looked a little confused. “Catch him or kill him…?”

“Capture, please.” Ariadne’s tone turned to ice. “If things escalate, we’ll examine other options, but for now it’s capture only. While the robber has used brutal means, as yet he or she hasn’t caused serious, lasting harm to any of the victims. Like Parks said, we suspect a teenager, manifesting their powers and getting out of control with the taste of freedom they’re experiencing.”

She drew herself up, removing her hands from the desk and tucking them behind her back. “This is their tipping point. If we act quickly, we can save them and bring them back here. If you screw it up, they go the other way, become a criminal for life and either spend time in our Arizona facility or end up dead.”

“You’ll draw weapons from the armory in case things get out of hand.” Parks was stern as he said it. “Just make sure you aren’t the ones who make it go that way.”

Ariadne shot a look at Parks. “They’re all qualified to carry a sidearm?” After he nodded, she went on. “Remember that your best weapon is yourselves. You’ll leave within the hour. Pack a bag and be prepared to be gone for a week or more. Any questions?” She waited for us to ask anything, but none of us did. “Keep your cell phones on you at all times. I expect progress reports every three hours while you’re awake, even if it’s only something as mundane as ‘We stopped to pee at a gas station’. If we suffer from anything on this excursion, it will be overcommunication, not under.” She glared at each of us in turn. “And no fighting amongst yourselves.”

“It’s been like…months, since any of us fought,” I said.

“And keep your temper in check.” Ariadne looked daggers at me. “Are we clear?”