Mordecai frowned as he looked up at the television monitor sitting high up in a ceiling corner of the departure lounge deep in the belly of Calgary International Airport's south terminal. On the color monitor some sort of Normal ceremony was taking place, one that featured his old friends, Dee McMaster and Cal Duffy.
Dressed in formal attire, they were receiving some sort of award for the part they played in the events that had swirled around the convention center during the Normal conference of world power finance ministers. 'Had that truly been only five days ago?' the man in black silently wondered as he watched the tiny figures on the screen go through the motions.
Five days removed from an event that nearly saw the beginning of the end for the entire Human Race. Five days from a battle that had seen many of their allies killed or critically injured, including the almost complete destruction of Lash's Qos Viran team. A battle that also saw the emergence of the Storm Wolves as a vital fighting force, one that could be used in the continuing war against the Brotherhood and their plans of genocide and domination.
It was in that same battle that one of their closest allies, the human Cal Duffy apparently suffered a strange sort of injury that left him comatose and catatonic. He had been evacuated along with the delegates and taken almost directly to the hospital following the battle.
As it had turned out, Duffy hadn't suffered a physical injury during the final minutes of the tumult that had surrounded the convention center before its destruction at the hands of the Brotherhood hardwire, Ravage. Instead, he had suffered a psychological wound, one that had played upon deeply repressed memories from his days at Interpol a number of decades before.
A telepathic probe at Duffy's bedside had revealed that during an investigation in Belgium, over twenty years ago, Duffy had accidentally stumbled into a Brotherhood subsuming operation that was swallowing a local nation. A local nation that just happened to be resisting the Brotherhood psionics sent to conquer them.
Bearing witness to the subsequent battle, a strange and wonderful event that was easily beyond anything the then young Duffy could comprehend, had rendered a great blow to his psyche. A blow that he never truly recovered from.
It was that original memory of the fantastic battle between the Brotherhood and the dying psionic nation in Belgium that had driven Duffy into the bottle, destroying his career at Interpol and eventually finding him in Calgary, struggling to stay sane as a CPS detective. As deeply as he tried to bury and repress it until it no longer haunted his dreams, he still tried to drink himself into a stupor every day so he no longer saw the flashing lights and the gouts of fire that burnt people to a crisp in a heartbeat that filled his eyes every time he opened them.
Eventually the pressure of that memory coming to the surface, triggered every time Duffy witnessed psionic energies at work during their war against the Brotherhood, pushed the old Brit's psyche past the breaking point. Watching the trigger team launch its attack against the security forces around the convention center was the straw that broke the camel's back. As pyroken flashed wildly about, Duffy had felt his mind give out and, with a groan, had slumped to the ground, catatonic.
Long used to repairing psychological as well as neural damage as a lone gunman, Mordecai had strengthened his telepathic probe and, carefully and adeptly, had put Duffy's mind back together again. The old Brit had abruptly awoken to find himself staring up into the man in black's smiling face, his psychiatrist nowhere to be seen. Mordecai had left him and Dee to live their lives as Normally as they could, all things considered. Since they had served as such valuable allies, the man in black had decided to leave their memories of the events intact. Who knew? Perhaps he would be in need of their services again, sometime in the future.
As for Lash and what was left of his team, the big vampire was supposed to report to Europe and his clan, to let them know what exactly had happened in the battle against the Brotherhood and its Armageddon Project. The rest of the Qos Viran would return to Brazil to debrief Aizea about their efforts to keep the man in black hale and whole.
The Qos Viran survivors were already gone, having left nearly three days ago on a flight for Rio de Janeiro. Their big commander, however, was nowhere to be found.
Lash had vanished shortly after they secured what was left of the convention center and its grounds, before the Normals could arrive to take charge. Where he was nobody knew, not even members of his own team. Perhaps draining a couple of humans before his flight to Europe, maybe plotting a new war against the Brotherhood with his newfound weaponry and technology, thanks to Mordecai. The man in black suspected the latter, considering what he knew of the Qos Viran commander.
Either way, it didn't matter to him. Mordecai had other things to worry about than a missing vampire commando. Like returning to his lone gunman duties. Already he could feel the tug of the next strongest probability node pulling at him. It wouldn't be long before it would be all he could think about.
Raven, Agony and Jeriko were already gone. The three of them were making their way to Asia where a conclave of lone gunmen would sit in judgment against Sonja, Brillman and Coyote for their part in assisting Katengaur foment chaos in Calgary in the time leading up to the confrontation at the convention center. Not to mention the unjustified attack on Mordecai upon their return from Toronto. The man in black also suspected that Raven and Jeriko would petition to have Agony join the lone gunman; the reformed Brotherhood psionic was certainly strong enough.
By all rights, Mordecai should've followed the Swedish and Native American hardwires to Asia, having played a pivotal part in the whole affair. The conclave would also demand an explanation for why he created the Storm Wolves, which now promised to change the balance of psionic power across the world. But he had better things to do than answer to the Lone Gunmen Conclave right now, like interrogating Martin before the pull to the next node became too strong to resist. Paladin's recording crystal that had captured the events as they unfolded in the airport would be sufficient to convict all three without the need for his direct testimony.
The man in black stood with a sigh. Eventually he would return to the conclave and give his personal account of everything. He was, after all, still a member of that organization. Now, however, it was time for him to catch his flight to the remote corner of the world the Storm Wolves had stolen Martin to, before the Normals had locked down the city.
As he began to walk towards the security checkpoint that led to the departure gates, one could see that he was dressed much the same way as he had been when he had first arrived in the prairie city back in August of last year. His favorite black leather jacket, a black turtleneck sweater beneath with a pair of black Dockers finishing the look, his black leather bag slung by its strap over his shoulder. He would depart, just as he had arrived: under the radar.
But before he could reach the security checkpoint, heavily manned by both airport security and an RCMP tactical team, a man's voice called out his name.
"Mordecai!" Pausing, Mordecai looked over his shoulder.
And smiled when he saw Lash, also dressed completely in black, stride towards him, a broad smile on the vampire's face. A black bag, similar to his own, was slung over the big vampire's shoulder.
"Well, there you are!" the man in black declared with a smile as Lash drew up to him to take Mordecai's hand in a strong grip. "You had us all wondering what happened to you following the battle at the convention center when you abruptly disappeared."
The big vampire shrugged as he let his hand drop back to his side.
"I had some thinking to do, that's all," Lash replied in a soft voice, his face thoughtful. "The world has been turned on its ear with what happened five days ago. Including my own. There's unrest amongst the clans for the part the Qos Viran played in the events of the past few months. I must return to Europe to deal with it, as you know, as soon as possible. I hope it will give me the chance to showcase to my brethren the new weapons that you've given us."
The smile returned to Lash's handsome face at that.
"I think that news will be enough to brighten even the most darkened hearts amongst the clans since those weapons will help us in our ongoing war with the Brotherhood. But enough about my plans and me. What does the first Psi Lord have on his agenda? The conclave in Asia to determine the fate of your renegade lone gunmen?"
Mordecai slowly shook his head.
"I don't think so," he replied just as softly, his smile fading. "I have Martin to interrogate about the Brotherhood and their future plans for conquest of the Human Race. Before he blew himself to hell, Ravage implied that the Brotherhood has other 'projects' up their sleeves, waiting to be unleashed on Normal Humanity. I would certainly like to know what those projects are. And who better to ask than a member of the Inner Council?"
"You and I both, my friend." Lash's face turned thoughtful once more. "And I would hope that you'd keep us abreast of what you discover in those interrogations. Especially if it would help us in our ongoing struggle."
Mordecai let a smile return to his face as he nodded, clapping a friendly hand onto the big vampire's shoulder.
"Of course, Lash. You and I have shed blood together on the battlefield. Not only are we comrades and allies, I would hope that we're friends as well. In the heat of battle we've forged not only a lasting alliance against a common foe, but mutual respect, admiration and friendship. I want to see that continue into the future."
Lash's smile brightened his face as he nodded.
"As do I, my friend. As do I. You don't know what that declaration means to me."
"Confidence that I won't declare war on the vampires, probably," Mordecai chuckled and Lash quickly joined him, the two big men laughing softly for a moment. Indeed that was exactly what Lash had hoped it meant.
It was a great release of tension to learn that his hope would be realized. Nobody wanted an enemy like Mordecai and his Storm Wolves, especially the vampires. Not after what Lash had seen them do against the Brotherhood's highly trained and handpicked destroyer cadres.
Sobering, Lash laid his hand on Mordecai's shoulder.
"Indeed we have become comrades in battle, and friends. As a friend I hope you know that you can now call upon me any time you need help. Not that I think you'll need it, as a Psi Lord, but one never knows."
Also sobering, Mordecai nodded.
"No, one never does. Thank you and, in the same breath, I extend the same courtesy to you and yours. If I can give you folks a hand with anything, let me know. With my Storm Wolves scattered all over the planet gathering information on the Brotherhood, I won't be hard to get a hold of."
"Again you've my thanks." Lash smiled. "And now, I must be going. My flight leaves in a couple of minutes." Reaching out once more, he took Mordecai by the forearm in a traditional vampire grip. "Victory in battle, my friend. May you always find warm blood to greet you."
"Victory in battle, Lash," Mordecai replied. "And may the hunt always be satisfying." He finished the traditional farewell. "Until we meet again."
"I look forward to that day." Then Lash, with a final squeeze of Mordecai's arm and hand, was gone, striding strongly through the checkpoint and on towards his departure gate.
Mordecai watched him go for a brief moment before he gathered himself to go through the security point with its metal detector, x-ray machine and lockdown-level personnel himself. Indeed, it was time to go. His own flight, bound for the west coast, was leaving shortly as well. With a final look about the terminal, he stepped into the checkpoint and through. Time to resume his wandering upon the face of the world, looking for points of change to monitor, observe and alter. Time to once again become a lone gunman.
It was a lonely life, one filled with constant moving, with no end in sight. But it was the only one he knew, the only way to protect the Shield from the likes of the Brotherhood. And so he went, knowing he could do nothing else.
Arms folded beneath her breasts, Dee watched as Mordecai disappeared through the checkpoint, heading towards his departure gate. When he vanished, she sighed softly.
"It's finally over," she quietly observed. Beside her, Duffy, dressed in his usual rumpled suit and coat, nodded slowly.
"For now," he replied. "Until the Brotherhood decides to rear its ugly head again, the bastards." He looked up at Dee. "Why didn't you want to say goodbye? There's a fairly good chance that we won't be seeing our friend Mordecai ever again!"
"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Dee said as she pushed away from the wall she had been leaning against. As she steadied herself, she reached underneath her battered leather bomber jacket to pat the holstered Shiva that hung in her left armpit to resettle it.
Like the vampires, she and Duffy had been allowed to keep the powerful sidearms in the event that they ran across anything that wouldn't or couldn't be stopped by regular Normal firepower, along with all their supporting tech. Mordecai had been very generous with the gadgets he had developed in the course of their operations against the Brotherhood. Considering that he had opened a far greater world for both of them, it was the least he could do. Dee couldn't look at people on the street now without imagining half of them as werewolves, vampires, shape-shifters, psionics, or some other Dark Edge mutation.
By any definition, their world had been radically changed by what had happened in the last few months. Changes that would take twice as long to understand, if at all!
"The man comes to trouble like a moth to flame," she continued, satisfied that everything was in order. "Besides, I have a feeling that the Brotherhood isn't quite done with us yet. Calgary has a pivotal role to play in their plans of global conquest, I can feel it."
Dee grimaced tightly as she looked out the bank of windows dominating the hallway and at the planes sitting restlessly at their gates, giant raptors of steel and glass impatient to return to their domain in the wide open skies.
"No, we haven't seen the last of the Brotherhood, Duffy. Not by a long shot. And, by virtue of their connection, Mordecai and the lone gunmen."
Abruptly she brightened.
"Let's get the hell out of here, hey, Duffy? Let's grab something to eat!"
Sighing, Duffy nodded.
"As long as we don't have to eat that absolute trash that you mistakenly call food, my dear," he replied with a half grin, fishing out the keys to the Xterra that Mordecai had left behind for him. "I think the last time we ate at one of your favorite dives, I suffered from food poisoning!"
"Are you sure that was food poisoning, Duff?" Dee asked with a grin as they began to walk towards the exit. "And not a hangover?"
"Ah." Duffy's smile broadened slightly. "Perhaps it was one of those, at that."
Laughing out loud, Dee threw her arm over her partner's shoulders and together they made their way out of the terminal, not looking back.
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*The End*
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A/N: This marks the end of 'Hardwire', the first book in the Dark Edge Chronicles, but not the Chronicles themselves. If you've enjoyed this story, then look for 'Clan War', the second book in the Chronicles that continues the story from the vampire point of view. Thanks for reading.