FIC: Darker Reign (3/?)
FIC: Darker Reign (3/?)
“I don’t like this Harris,” Faith declared as she peered up from beneath her peaked Red Sox baseball cap, hands stuffed into the pockets of her grey Boston Celtics hoodie. “I should be rabbiting over the border into Canada or Mexico or somethin’.”
Xander glanced left and right as he made his way through the crowded streets, pristine skyscrapers gleaming in the early morning sun. “Giles says we shouldn’t do anything until we’re sure that you’ve been identified, running might alert Osborn.”
Faith shot her boyfriend an incredulous glance. “How the hell’s Osborn gonna know it’s me? Until he’s finished facial recognition, he’ll only have a blurry photo. If we wait until he knows I’m Harriet the Spy,” Faith ignored the longing glance Xander was shooting the neighbourhood’s International House Of Pancakes, “by then it’ll be way too late.”
“Giles says that he’ll use the Council’s diplomatic contacts to try and curtail any attacks by Osborn,” Xander replied. Faith shook her head, Xander had seen the footage, but he hadn’t been there, he hadn’t seen how grade A crazy Osborn was. Somehow she didn’t think a couple of ambassadors were gonna stop him. “And going on the run using your own credit cards and papers would get you captured pretty fast. We need those papers and that money.”
That at least made sense. Although she wasn’t happy about the idea of X goin’ with her, but her predictably mule-headed boyfriend wouldn’t have it any other way.
Yeah, love made ya dumb as shit.
Not that she didn’t appreciate the loyalty though, especially after her crappy exes. “Here’s the bank,” Faith pointed to a glass-fronted building with the logo of a red apple over its arched doorway.
“Yeah,” Xander shook his head, “looking at the logo, I’m amazed the Beatles didn’t sue them for copyright infringement.” Faith looked at her boyfriend, brow furrowing. What the fuck was he talkin’ about this time? “You know, Beatles, Apple Records?”
“Rrrrright,” Faith decided humouring the dork was definitely the way to go.
“I’ll do the talking, you keep the peak of your cap down and hair tucked into the sweatshirt so that if a camera picks you up, there’s less than a chance of anyone recognising you,” Xander said. Faith nodded, that made sense.
Xander smiled at her assent before opening the door. “After you.”
“Thanks,” Faith half-smiled. If nothin’ else, Xander’s manners were sweet.
Inside the bank was all pastel coloured walls and gleamingly clean floor tiles with CCTV cameras in every corner of the reception area following their every move, and watchful private security patrolling the vast area. Xander and Faith joined one of the four lines leading to the reception desk. Faith ground her teeth together, waiting was never one of her favourite things to do, Slayers just weren’t built for patience, they just had too much energy. Add to that the possibility of Osborn’s stormtroopers crashing in at every moment, and every waiting second seemed to take an hour.
Finally though, Xander reached the front of the line, the receptionist’s bland politeness of course offset by Xander’s eyepatch but just as naturally returned by her boyfriend’s goofy grin. “Hi Sandra,” Xan spent rather too long beaming at the pretty red-head stood behind the desk. “It’s a lovely day isn’t it?” Xander commented before continuing. “I have this key for one of your deposit boxes.”
The receptionist’s eyes widened when Xander produced the key. “Oh right, sir, if you just wait here, I’ll have to get the deputy manager.”
The receptionist climbed off her seat and rushed to a door at the rear. “She could have just identified me, gone to alert the police or some such shit,” Faith muttered in Xander’s ear.
“You know what I love about you?” Xander’s grin grew a little more forced. “Your glowing optimism.”
Faith’s mouth opened in a waspish response, but before she could speak, the door opened and a short, spindly man wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a crumpled suit followed the receptionist out. “Hello,” the man squeaked as he guided them behind the counter, “you have the key for one of our boxes, I understand. Box 999?” The manager peered from Xander to Faith and back again. “Before we go any further I assume you know the pass phrase?”
Xander nodded. “Angel and Spike are a pair of wankers.”
“That’s correct,” the manager led them through the door, past a deskbound thickly set security guard, a camera above the guard recording their every movement. The manager continued on, around a corner, and to a steel door with an armed guard stood to the left and a keypad on the right, another security camera set above the door. “Give me a moment,” the manager muttered as he tapped in a six key code, then pressed ‘ENTER’.
The steel door hissed to the side, revealing a room filled with deposit boxes to the left and right, the room’s centre dominated by a single solitary table. The man’s shoes clicked on the tiled floor as he walked to the room’s rear, unlocked a deposit box, and pulled out a locked box that he placed on the table. “I’ll be outside, just buzz when you’re finished.”
“Thanks.” Xander waited until the door had closed behind the man, then used his key to unlock the box, pulling its top off to reveal the cell, sets of identity papers, and money inside it
“Hey, if Osborn doesn’t come after me,” Faith dived in the box and pulled out the thick rolls of bills, dark eyes gleaming avariciously, “new cinema system on Giles?”
Xander shook his head. “Let’s just get out of here before you spend the money.”
Faith pouted. “Piker.”
* * *
“No!” Pepper Potts shook his head. “You can’t do this!”
Stark smiled patiently. “Extremis changed me, I’m no longer merely human. My brain’s evolved into a kind of hard drive, and there’s all sorts of stuff on that hard drive that Osborn might want. Extremis. Iron Man technology. Ideas and plans Hank, Reed, and I were working on. Blueprints and plans we’ve confiscated off various criminal geniuses. Files on foreign meta-humans. Contingency plans for dealing with various criminals, some that Osborn would consider amongst his allies. SHIELD personnel files. And of course the superhuman registration act. I’ve alienated many of my friends over the past few months, but I won’t betray them.” Stark paused. “It’s a myth that strong men can hold forever against torture, any man or woman can or will be broken, it’s just a matter of time and will. So the only safe solution is,” Stark paused, the enormity of his decision threatening to overwhelm, “is I wipe my external hard drive, my brain.”
“Yes Tony, you wipe your external hard drive, but it’s not just an external hard drive, it’s your brain!” Pepper snapped. “What does this mean for you?”
“It’s the biological equivalent of reformatting my hard drive,” Tony replied. “Every idea, plan, secret that Osborn might want will be deleted.” Tony paused, stomach hollowing and throat tightening. “The only trouble is, so will I. Everything will go, until well I’m a vegetable.”
“No way!” Maria Hill snapped, his former deputy director shaking her head. “You’re the smart guy in the room, one of the smartest guys we’ve got on our side, you can’t just wipe yourself out like this. Osborn’s rotten to the core, but he won’t last, and when he’s gone, we’ll need you!”
“I told you!” Stark’s calm façade cracked. “If Osborn gets his hands on my mind, it’ll be disastrous.”
“Why not use a gun?” Hill demanded, voice hoarse with pain. “Or drugs?”
“Too chancey,” Stark forced a smile. “Don’t worry, I have a plan. I always have a plan.”
* * *
“Huh, I’m sorry but I have an appointment,” Foggy Nelson’s unease increased as the power-suited red-head strutted into his office. Beautiful women always flustered him, and especially those that radiated the sort of power that this beauty did.
“No, Mr. Nelson, I’m afraid you don’t.” The woman sat down uninvited, long legs crossing as she peered imperiously at him. “As of 12 midnight, last night your law licence has been suspended.”
“What!” Nelson’s eyes bulged. “You can’t!”
“Actually I can,” the woman appeared unfazed by his protestations. “I’m Victoria Hand, personal assistant to Director Osborn of HAMMER.” Nelson’s heart sank. “Due to your close relation with Matt Murdoch also known as Daredevil, it has been decided that you’re an unsuitable man to be practicing law-.”
“On what grounds?” Nelson’s fist crashed onto the desk.
“On the grounds that Daredevil is an unregistered meta-human,” Hand replied. “As a result, Director Osborn petitioned New York law board for a suspension of your licence owing to your close association to a wanted fugitive.”
“You can’t just do this! I’ll appeal!”
“By all means do so,” Hand rose. “We after all live in a democracy. I’m sure you’ll get your appeal.” Hand’s smile could have frozen polar bears. “In four to six months.”
* * *
Water lopped against the sides of the royal yacht, gently bobbing the sleek-lined ship. “How typically courteous of you to ask me to a meeting in such a place,” Namor greeted as he climbed out of the waters and onto the deck, water dripping from the Atlantis native’s powerful frame. “T’Challa, Ororo, a pleasure to see you both, although I’m at a loss as regards the motivation behind the invitation?”
“The Americans have gone mad,” T’Challa replied, his tone flat and sombre.
“Ha!” the Atlantean threw his head back and let out an amused roar. “The Americans were always the maddest of all surface dwellers with their galloping mass consumption of the world resources and casual, unthinking disposal of their waste.” Namor’s amused tone disappeared. “But what specific madness do you refer to?”
It was Storm rather than T’Challa who replied. “Their usurpation of Tony Stark in favour of Norman Osborn.”
“Ah yes,” Namor’s jaw clenched and a storm cloud seemed to form behind his eyes, “Stark was always an honourable, principled but arrogant man. But Osborn,” Namor shook his head. “I’ve encountered that man on occasion, stopped his companies from dumping into the oceans. He’s an arrogant, bad-tempered ass with delusions of godhood. In short, he’s nothing more than a mad dog” Namor paused. “However I fail to see what effect America’s inner turmoils will have on us?”
“You said yourself,” Storm was calmness personified. “Osborn is delusional and power-hungry, with the might of America behind him, he is more dangerous than before.”
“More dangerous?” The air seemed to crackle around Namor. “More dangerous how?”
“We have friends in America.” T’Challa shook his head at Namor’s snort. “Snort all you like, but there are people you admire at the very least. People that it is probable someone as vindictive and unhinged as Osborn will target now that he has the infrastructure of the entire U.S. behind him.”
Namor’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Even if I admit to concerns for those I have fought alongside, my priority is always and forever Atlantis.”
“And that should be a concern too,” Storm pressed. “Do you think Osborn’s ambitions will be fettered by borders?”
“If he attacks Atlantis then he will find it’s the gravest of mistakes,” Namor replied. “Always Atlantis will stand strong.”
“But need it stand alone?” queried T’Challa.
Namor’s gaze bored into him, but T’Challa met it unflinchingly. “What do you mean?”
“I think a coalition of international super-heroes is called for, a sort of mutual defensive pact,” T’Challa replied.
“And who will be invited to this coalition?” Namor demanded.
T’Challa hesitated before replying. “The three of us of course, the Arabian Knight, Japan’s Silver Samurai, Ka-Zar of the Savage Land, Zanzibar’s Askari the Spear, Germany’s Vormund, Israel’s Sabra, and Captain Britain.”
“Ha,” T’Challa was disappointed when Namor shook his head. “And I am the first to be asked?” T’Challa nodded. “Friend, I laud your ambition, but those you name will either be restrained by their governments or will be nothing more than minor obstacles to an Osborn backed by his government.” Namor backed to the edge of the yacht. “My answer is no.”
”That was disappointing,” Storm commented as Namor disappeared in a splash.
“It was,” T’Challa admitted. “But I have other plans.”
* * *
“Damn it!” Osborn thumped the desk as he stared impotently at the screen before him. All attempts at accessing the Superhuman Registration Act database had failed, Stark having comprehensively booby-trapped the damn thing. All those identities lost.
His gaze snapped towards the statuesque red-head striding through his office door. “Hand! Don’t bother coming in unless you have some good news!”
His personal assistant missed a step at his bark but then she continued in. “Yes sir, we have an identity on the interloper at last night’s meet, she’s a twenty-seven year old woman by the name of Faith Eliza Lehane.” Hand passed a file over his desk. “She has an interesting past.”
Osborn’s eyes widened as he scanned the file. He was more than aware of the existence of vampires, after all he’d had encounters with both Blade and Morbius in the past, but had never had the slightest inkling of the existence of this Slayers Council. “Get on the phone to the White House, ask the President for a face to face at his earliest convenience.”
* * *
“Yes,” Osborn waited with barely-controlled impatience as the President ran over the carefully-prepared and doctored evidence, “these charges do seem very serious. However,” the President looked up, “I’m not prepared to go to war with the Slayers Council over them.”
“Sir!” Osborn reigned in his temper and attempted a more reasonable tone. “The crimes Lehane has been accused of-.”
“Are very serious,” the President agreed. “But the Council is an institution that pre-dates the Vatican, and comes close to it in power and influence throughout the world. Should I unilaterally declare sanctions on the Council, it’s possible they might pull their Slayers out of the US., causing an explosion in the number of vampire and demonic-related deaths.”
“HAMMER could take up the slack,” Osborn replied.
“And at what cost to the American tax-player?” the President queried.
“Sir, these crimes can’t be ignored-.”
“Whose ignoring them?” the President interrupted. “I’m willing to both remove Ms. Lehane’s diplomatic immunity and sign off on any papers you need to authorise her arrest. However, this isn’t cart blanche to go after the Council, just her and anyone who assists her.”
* * *
BBBR! BBBBR! BBBR!
Xander grunted back at his phone as its ringing forced him out of his slumber. When his disapproval failed to silence it, he reached out and grabbed it off the bedside table and pulled it to his hear. “Hello?”
“Xander!” His heart skipped a beat as he recognised the harried tones as belonging to Giles. “One of our agents in the State Department has been in contact with me, Faith’s diplomatic immunity has been repealed and an arrest warrant for her on charges of sabotage, industrial espionage, and murder has been issued. HAMMER are on their way to you as I speak.”
“What?” Xander rubbed dazedly at his eyes and rolled up and out of the bed, Faith moaning sleepily beneath the sheets. “I thought you said you’d make sure we’re protected?”
“I’m still working on it son,” Giles hissed. “But until I can secure Faith’s safety, you and her need to run. NOW!”