The Metahuman Agency: The Superhuman War

Sisters

The technicians moved alongside her. They drew their sidearms, all aiming at the door. The Director sucked in her breath. She closed her eyes and steeled herself.

Moments later, there was a loud explosion. The door was blown open. A grenade was tossed inside the frame and burst into smoke, masking the attackers. The technicians opened fire, shooting blindly into the smoke.

The first mercenary emerged from the smoke. The man fired, hitting one technician in the neck. The technicians shot him but their small arms fire failed to penetrate his body armor. The mercenary fired again, nailing another technician in the head.

The Director didn't take cover. She waited for the men to shoot at her, gun her down. But that didn't happen. More mercenaries burst from the smoke, shooting at everyone but her. Technicians were gunned down, dropping like flies, stray gunfire hitting the walls. One burst hit the monitors behind the Director, the monitor exploding in a shower of sparks.

Within moments it was over. Director Prescott stood alone, the corpses of the technicians all around her. She down at them. Their bravery had amounted for nothing. They had been gunned down like dogs. She glared as the black-clad mercenaries surrounded her, brandishing their weapons. They didn't scare her. Just a group of thugs.

The one in front relaxed slightly and lowered his machine gun. He spoke into his earpiece. "Priority target secure. Floor thirty-seven, control room." He motioned to his men. Three of them immediately moved over to the technicians bodies. They shot each body again in the head, methodically and without fanfare. No doubt making sure they stayed down.

The Director refused to flinch as the soldiers did their gruesome work. She'd seen worse. She refused to flinch or show fear to these thugs even as they continued to aim their guns at her. She couldn't read their faces behind their bacalavas but she could see their eyes. They showed no emotion. This work was simply that to them. Work.

The lead mercenary nodded to one at his side. The man moved forward and patted the Director down. She considered striking him, slapping him away, but it would be a pointless show of defiance. So she let him examine her. He finished and stood, saying to the lead soldier: "She's clean."

The leader nodded. The mercery withdrew back into the ranks of his fellows. The Director looked over all of them and finally spoke. "I don't know what she's paying you all. But you all must be pretty stupid to have gone through with this. You know what you've done, right? You've made enemies of the U.S. government. Every one of you-" She waved her finger at the bunch. "-is dead."

They didn't answer. Prescott narrowed her eyes. Just as she thought. Intimidation was wasted on this group. She simply stood, crossing her arms, simply glaring at them as they continued to silently watch her. Fine. Seems they were waiting then. So would she.

Sometime later, there came a loud roar from the hallway. The Director looked up. It sounded like the whine of a jet engine. The mercenaries in front of her all looked back as well. The leader made another hand motion and the group separated, still keeping their guns trained on the Director.

The Director stared at the open doorway. Then a hulking metal thing flew in front of the open doorway. The same robotic thing she had seen fly into the Hangar. She felt herself stiffen a bit as she laid eyes on it. It was quite large and looked extremely physically imposing, its optics glowing, its metallic fingers soaked with blood.

The robotic thing's thrusters deactivated and it landed inside the room, its wings retracting. It looked at her. The Director stared back. She wondered if her sister truly was inside that suit. She felt her hairs stand on edge ever so slightly. What did her sister look like under there? It felt like an eternity since she had last seen her. Of course, she had seen photographs and brief video clips but the last time they had met was as a young adults. Now...