The mineral water arrived and was half done by the time the door abruptly swung open to reveal Braddox and almost a dozen of his hard softwire companions, each looking as dangerous as a ravenous wolf. Mordecai smiled slightly, straightening in the booth. 'Here we go,' he thought grimly, subtly gathering as much power as he could without dropping the temperature to noticeable levels.
While most wireheads had the ability to draw from their own internal energy resources to generate the required EM fields to do their work, more powerful psionics also utilized the laws of Thermodynamics to enhance the energy gathered from their bodies by drawing ambient energy from the environment around them.
The more powerful the psionic, the easier they could draw ambient energy. In response, and according to the thermodynamic laws, removing energy from a system increased order and decreased entropy. A drop in temperature reflected increasing order. And so, when energy was drawn from the air, there often was a noticeable drop in the temperature.
It didn't take the big mover long to spot the man in black, almost out of place with his leather jacket as the powerful Mordecai casually looked in Braddox's direction. The Brotherhood softwire's face imperceptibly tightened before he was sweeping forward without a word or a look to Clyve, the maitre d' nervously dry washing his hands. The movers and burners that had come in behind him, quickly spread out to surround the booth, taking strategic positions all over the room. Much to the bartender's chagrin.
"Hey, what's going on here, Braddox?" the wiry man said, nervously wiping his hands on a white apron tied about his narrow waist. "You know the rules about fighting in the bar. You don't want me calling Ms. Tanner about this."
Braddox tore his eyes away from Mordecai's suntanned face just long enough to glare hotly at the slender man.
"This is Brotherhood business, Curly," he hissed tightly and the bartender's face blanched, as the bar's other patrons began to look around nervously. "You'll keep yourself and Ms. Tanner clear of it. Understand?"
"Perfectly, Mr. Braddox," Curly replied, swallowing heavily before running longer fingers through his close cut hair. He then tugged his bow tie straight and studiously began to ignore the Brotherhood muscle that had abruptly taken control of his establishment.
Braddox dropped into the booth directly opposite Mordecai without asking before leaning forward, a hard expression on his face.
"Won't you join me?" Mordecai managed to say with a slight smile before the big mover had a chance to speak, making Braddox's frown darken.
"My driver says that you claim to be some friend of mine," Braddox bit out, cutting quickly to the point as he ignored Mordecai's attempt at pleasantry. "Yet you drop an insinuation that you were present at the airport when our men were taken out." The dark eyes narrowed.
"Of course I've never seen you before in my life. So, who exactly are you, Mr. Martin O'Hara and why shouldn't I kill you right where you're sitting?"
"A good question." Mordecai's smile thinned. "And one worthy of a man that appears to be as well-educated and cultured as you are. Unexpected for a gangster."
"Gangster?" Braddox grated tightly.
"Oh, I've seen your little network all over the city. And neatly out of sight of the Normals. It would appear that your ... 'Brotherhood' has decided to take on territory normally reserved for organized crime. Prostitution, racketeering, money laundering, drug smuggling ... you know, gangster stuff." His smile faded even further. "Therefore, logically speaking, that would make you and yours gangsters."
For a moment Braddox fell silent, his face darkening as he kept his rage in check. Then abruptly he threw back his close shorn head and barked out a loud roar of laughter. Mordecai's smile warmed slightly as he calmly folded his arms over his chest and watched as Braddox continued to laugh, an almost mirthless sound that only made his henchmen shift nervously.
"Either you're as stupid as a sack of hammers," Braddox finally managed to say, his body still quivering from the effects of his mirth. "Or you've got balls the size of watermelons, coming in here and saying that to me!" He paused to wipe a tear from his eye, grinning now from ear to ear.
"Obviously you're a wirehead, or you wouldn't have made it past Clyve. And considering the respect he gave you, you've got some juice under that tacky hair do. But you're not with any local nation so you mustn't be from around here." The blocky mover's eyes narrowed slightly. "Which brings me to the question: why the hell should you care what we're doing here, huh?"
Just as abruptly as he had dissolved into laughter, Braddox was once again dead serious as he leaned forward, his eyes twin laser beams as they bore into Mordecai's.
"Are you some kind of psionic cop or something?"
"I wasn't aware there was such a thing," Mordecai answered softly, eyes narrowing. "No, a concerned citizen, that's all."
"A concerned citizen that interferes with Brotherhood business at a whim and injures Brotherhood employees? Well, 'concerned citizen', why don't you take that concern and stuff it up your ass!" Braddox bit out, any veneer of culture sloughing off as his eyes glittered dangerously. "The Brotherhood answers to no-one. Especially not to a burnout like you. So get the hell out of here before I forget you're a fellow wirehead and burn you to ash!"
Mordecai frowned slightly, letting his eyes lightly run over Braddox's features. He wasn't an unhandsome man, but the cruelty and barely checked rage that seemed to percolate just under the surface twisted his features into a mask of grim foreboding. The closely shaved head and the black clothing served only to enhance that impression. He was dangerous, that much was certain. But how far could Mordecai push him before he broke and lashed out? Time to find out!
"Ah, threats. The avenue of the psychologically weak." His face hardened. "If the best your 'Brotherhood' has to offer was those three buffoons I took out at the airport, your threats are worthless. So save your breath!"
"I thought as much," Braddox growled. "You're the renegade that ambushed our boys."
Mordecai was already formulating a retort halfway through Braddox's flat statement when a soft chime sounded inside his mind. 'The algorithm!' Then, with a surge of neural energy, the decrypted information rushed into his mind, a flood of symbols, words and images. The man in black barely managed to stop his eyes from widening in surprise at what he abruptly found racing by his mind's eye. 'What the ... they're going to do what??'
As the data continued to stream into his mind, Mordecai felt a wave of revulsion wash through him. But, knowing that seeing emotion on his face might give Braddox an excuse to attack, he hurriedly pushed it all into the back of his mind. Perhaps now he could use it to his advantage.
"Ambushed? Hardly." The man in black laughed softly and Braddox's face tightened even further. "I gave them ample opportunity to defend themselves. But they were no match for me. I took them out fast so the Normals wouldn't have any further involvement."
"Normals!" Braddox snorted, grimacing. "Those mud-brained slugs have had their day. Soon it will end and the era of the psionics will begin." 'Ah,' Mordecai thought darkly. 'Now to play the ace.'
"I suspect you're referring to your little plot to launch a coup against the Normals and abruptly take over control of the planet," the big man said almost offhandedly and Braddox's eyes widened in surprise. Mordecai pressed on, his smile returning for a brief moment.
"You're not the only one that can look into minds, my friend. Even those that are already dead!"
"Shit," Braddox hissed. "That damn teep at the airport. So they were right; you did get a data download before his mind was gone."
"Right. He had the whole thing in his cranium, all neatly wrapped up with an EM bow for me to easily decrypt."
Braddox's eyes abruptly narrowed thoughtfully.
"So why are you telling me this, renegade? If you thought you were hunted before, you've just painted a massive target right on your forehead, with a sign on your back saying 'kill me', admitting you know about the coup." A gesture sent one of the henchmen hurrying out the exit. "Especially since you're not Brotherhood. You'll be dead by morning. Every wirehead with a gram of juice in their skulls will be hunting you within the hour!"
"Perhaps." Mordecai smiled thinly and Braddox's eyebrow climbed up his forehead.
"You don't seem all that disturbed by the prospect of being a hunted man," he noted.
"Should I be?" Mordecai retorted, his smile growing slightly. "After all, I'm assuming you've had every wirehead in town with a gram of juice in their skulls already hunting for me since the airport and you couldn't find me until I actually showed myself. Your bloodhounds couldn't find a dead skunk in a box marked 'dead skunk', Braddox."
Nearly laughing at the almost chagrined look that appeared on the mover's face, Mordecai went on.
"Besides, I don't think you could stop me before I could reach the Normals with this information. I'm sure they'd find it quite intriguing."
Braddox snorted.
"If you wanted to take the coup data to the Normals, you've had well over 18 hours to do it. And, considering the Normals aren't crawling all over us, you've obviously not done that. So I don't think you're in this thing for them."
The mover's face grew slightly confused.
"But you also didn't hesitate to move against our people at the airport so I don't think you're supporting us. Now, I admit that, while we're pissed that you hit our guys at the airport, they were clumsy and inept to hit the teep out in the open like that, not very professional. You did us a favor by pointing that out so we can weed out the retards. Still, this coming to us now is also not ... logical. There's a catch here that I'm not seeing. Something that you're into that puts you against both sides. What's your deal, renegade?"
"The protection of our kind from theirs," Mordecai replied flatly. "If the psionics were to reveal ourselves, Normals would react predictably, as they have before, and would take measures to either imprison our people or destroy us outright. If anything, their own history has proven that they react negatively against that which they don't understand and fear. If we reveal that our abilities make us more than they, they'll fear us. And, therefore, they'll attack."
"Let them," Braddox replied, a grin of his own appearing on his lips. "They're no match for us. We'll burn out their minds before they take a step against us. Then we'll burn them to ash and scatter them to the wind!"
"All of them, Braddox?" Mordecai's eyes narrowed. "Can you burn them all out at the same time? They outnumber us several thousand to one. And it only takes one bullet to kill a psionic, just like it does a normal."
"But our powers can stop bullets," Braddox fired back.
"Indeed they can, if the mover knows where the bullet is coming from. But can a shield stop a mortar shell? Or a rocket-propelled grenade? A bomb? You forget, Braddox, that the Normals have been fighting wars for a very long time now and they're rather good at it. We would hold our own against the initial rush and then their shear numbers would overwhelm us. We would be dead in a month. All of us." An eyebrow raised slightly. "And I, for one, have little like for those odds."
"All the more reason to hit them first," Braddox countered, leaning back against his seat to put his arm up along the back, adopting a casual pose to mimic Mordecai's posture of ease. "You've shown yourself to be a man of action, Mr. O'Hara, and with a desire to protect your kind. Commendable ... and potentially useful. Why don't you join us? The Brotherhood could always use a man of your talent."
"No thanks," Mordecai curtly replied. "I protect the Shield in my own way. I don't need to become a part of some genocidal plot against Humanity to do it. Besides the last man that attempted a genetic cleansing taught his Ubersoldiers to goose step and ended up choking to death in a bunker, poisoned by his lover." His eyes bore into Braddox's.
"I would think that there's a lesson there for psionics as well as Normals, yes?"
The rage returned in a rush as Braddox leaned forward once again, his face twisted in a snarl.
"The Brotherhood is nothing like the Nazis, O'Hara. We will succeed where Hitler failed. Humanity will kneel before the might of the Brotherhood, whether they want to or not. And psionics will rule the world, producing a super race that will be Humanity's future. Either you're a part of it." He sat back hard.
"Or you're against us," he finished heavily.
Mordecai shrugged.
"Then, considering all of that, I would be against you."
"I thought as much," Braddox hissed, jerking his head in a gesture at the man in black. "Boys, take this asshole out!"
But, before the big men could move from their spots, Mordecai held up a hand.
"Here, let me do you one last favor, Braddox." He reached for a salt shaker as Braddox nodded slightly to his men, giving them the okay to hold their positions.
"I'm not sure how much of our history you actually know. But there was a little something called 'jousting' that two psionics would do, in order to handle a dispute in a manner that maintained the secrecy surrounding their existence."
"Yeah," the blocky mover said after a slight hesitation, a look of confusion appearing on his face, "I've heard of it. Two psionics would take hold of an object and do a tug-of-war thing with it. Whoever pushed it against the other, won. But that's ancient history, pal. We think on a different scale now. We work with molecules and atoms. Nothing so crude as a ... salt shaker."
"Oh?" Mordecai's eyebrow rose as he positioned the crystal and brass salt shaker between the two of them. "Are you saying that you're afraid of trying it?"
"Afraid of a joust? With you?? Don't be ridiculous." Braddox's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "But what are the stakes? You've got to make this thing worth my time, renegade."
"Let's keep it simple, for those playing along at home." Mordecai's smile was thin. "If I win, I walk out of here, intact."
"And if I win?" Braddox's smile was predatory. The big mover obviously didn't expect to lose.
"Then I'll go along with you peacefully and we'll take this whole thing before Preacher. Either way, it'll save Curly and Ms. Tanner one helluva clean up."
"Huh." Braddox snorted. "Very well. But just a friendly warning: you don't stand a chance, pal. I'm one of the Brotherhood's most powerful movers. I'm going to bury you so deep that you're gonna forget what daylight looked like!"
"Good, a challenge." Mordecai's smile broadened slightly as his breath plumed whitely out of his nostrils. "Any time you're ready, then."
The man in black watched as Braddox frowned, his eyes focused on Mordecai's breath, a clear sign that the big man had pulled energy from the air. Then the blocky mover was gathering his own energy, the air around him cooling quickly as he sucked in ambient energy to fuel his telekinetic powers. Then, with his enhanced senses, he felt the big mover reach out and curl a telekinetic tendril around the heavy shaker.
Almost immediately he too extended a tendril of psyken, wrapping it around Braddox's field to take a firm grip on both. While the EM fields generated by the Fingers of psionics performed a variety of tasks, psionics generally named the fields according to the specific task it was created for. So, EM energy summoned to perform telekinetic tasks was known as psyken, energy summoned for pyrokinetic tasks was called pyroken and so on.
And with a second thought, Mordecai began to push against the considerable psyken field Braddox had erected against him, focussed on the shaker.
Braddox's frown deepened as he watched the shaker slowly begin inching towards him.
"Wha?" he began before grimly throwing more of his strength into holding the shaker and moving it back towards the renegade. But, much to his chagrin, the shaker continued towards him, unfazed by his abrupt increase in power to his psyken field. It was almost as if he wasn't pushing at all!
Quickly Braddox ran through a neural check then a check of his field. Yes, both were functioning normally and he had a good grip on the shaker. But, no matter how much of his considerable talent he poured against it, the shaker continued to move towards him without pause and at a constant rate of advance.
Teeth grit, the blocky mover could feel beads of perspiration forming on his forehead to immediately freeze to ice as he savagely drew more and more ambient energy from the air, throwing everything he had against the shaker. Only to watch it continue to advance, unaffected.
"Haven't you begun pushing yet?" Mordecai asked in a light, conversational tone, acting as if he wasn't even involved in the joust. Braddox spared him a quick look, openly astonished that the renegade could so easily push against him.
And then the shaker was dropping into his lap and the renegade was standing.
"Oops. I win." He smiled and began to step away from the booth. "You'll have to forgive me if I joust and run. I expect your reinforcements will be arriving shortly. Nice chatting with you, Braddox. All things considered, I'm sure we'll run into each other again."
Wiping the ice from his brow with a savage sweep of his hand, Braddox twisted roughly in the booth to stare hotly at Mordecai's back.
"You're not going anywhere, renegade," he snarled tightly. "Take him!"
Mordecai looked up as Braddox's heavies began closing in on him from their various positions about the room, their breath abruptly visible as the temperature dropped and slowly shook his head.
"Tch, tch. Very unsporting, Braddox. I thought we had a deal."
The big mover barked a short, humorless laugh.
"No deals with race traitors. You're ash, O'Hara!"
The first blast lashed out with such fury that everybody that happened to glance in its direction were immediately blinded by the discharge. But, instead of slamming into Mordecai, as most expected it to, the bright blue discharge hammered into the nearest softwire, a big burner who had almost been right on top of the man in black when the blast hit him.
The scintillating bolt seemed to fold around the burner's shimmering shields in the blink of an eye, blackening them with its roiling energies as flickering forks of raw energy licked over the shields' straining surfaces. Then the shields, unable to withstand the brute force of the energy blast, collapsed, spilling the blast's power over the burner's abruptly unprotected body. The man had barely enough time to scream in pain and panic before the blast's impact picked him up like a rag doll and tossed him almost casually back through the air and into some tables and chairs, taking out two of the guards that had been sitting there.
Those not blinded by the blast's original discharge, found themselves turning to stare in stunned amazement at the man in black, a look of grim determination on his handsome face. And thus were witnesses as he used the massive telekinetic abilities of his powerful hardwired brain to once again strip electrons from molecules in the air around him, already sluggish as he continued to suck ambient energy into his cortex.
As his arm and hand rose into a classic track-and-field javelin thrower's pose, the first fork of man-made lightning formed across his cupped palm. It was a meter-long piece of blue-hot fury, hissing and snarling as the trapped electrons raged against the EM field that held them prisoner, locked in place and in shape.
"No fuckin' way!" Braddox breathed in disbelief, his eyes wide as they watched a second and a third filament being added to the artificial lightning bolt.
Forced into the same physical space by massive weaves of psyken energy, the filaments bonded together to form a cable of light and movement that shivered uneasily in Mordecai's fist. With untamed Nature held tightly in his hand, the man in black quickly scanned the room with hard eyes, looking for a target. It didn't take long for one to present itself.
With a shout a mover that had been patrolling the kitchen, burst through the door, both fists surrounded with shimmering psyken fields as he drew together a shockwave. Not hesitating for even a heartbeat, Mordecai spun and, Zeus-like, hurled the artificial lightning bolt directly at the charging psionic.
The man had no chance to alter his path as his eyes widened in shock at seeing the man-made lightning launched his way. A heart beat later it was punching through his shields to burn a hole clean through his body, the bolt discharging against the bar in an explosion of light and sound, pieces of wood flying in every direction. In the next eye blink the man was picked up by the impact and catapulted rudely back the way he came, splintering the kitchen door into a thousand fragments when he abruptly crashed through it.
Stunned by the double lightning strikes and still partially blinded by their discharges, the surviving Brotherhood wireheads staggered back from the man in black's assault, struggling to reset themselves. But Mordecai wasn't about to relinquish his tactical advantage.
They came like an irresistible wave, grim soldiers without emotion or remorse, directed shockwaves of shimmering psyken and solidified air that lashed out at the still standing Brotherhood wireheads. The Brotherhood psionics were quickly scattered in every direction like leaves before an autumn wind, a focussed shockwave throwing one mover over the bar and into Curly, both going down in an untidy heap. Others went into more tables and chairs and a couple went out through the plate glass front window, sending shattered glass everywhere as they hit the sidewalk hard on the other side.
The last one, a thick shouldered mover, was starting to stand from his chair when he was abruptly struck in the chest by a twisting, shivering cable of blue energy. Pinned in place like a bug on a collector's tray, the man's entire body quaked as the energy ripped through him. Then he was throwing his head back to scream, his face a mask of pain.
But, as his mouth fell open to give voice to his agony, no sound issued forth. Instead, as he continued to shudder with pain and reaction to the energies ravaging his body, a dark red fluid erupted volcanically from his mouth, spraying everywhere. Only for a moment, however; within a heartbeat of the fluid gushing from the man's mouth, it hardened into a thick gel, effectively suffocating the mover before he could do anything more than gasp loudly.
The mover dropped to the ground, dead before he impacted. Witness to the amazing transformation that snuffed the mover's life out like a blown out candle, Braddox was so shocked that he sat transfixed in his chair. So stunned was he that he didn't notice that the battle was over almost before it had begun, Mordecai knocking frost from his clothing as he stepped past a speechless Clyve.
"That was a mistake, Braddox," Mordecai noted bluntly, staring hard at the shocked silent Brotherhood mover as he put his hand on the door. "Lucky for you, I'm a generous man. I'll give that one to you. But I would suggest that you don't make a similar mistake the next time we meet!" And with that he was gone, leaving death and destruction behind him.
"Holy fuck!" Braddox breathed weakly, sagging back into his seat. "We are in some seriously deep shit with this guy!"