Indistinguishable From Magic (1/?)
Title: Indistinguishable From Magic(1/?)
Author: Christmas Pterodactyl
Rating: PG-13 to R
Word count: 3,647 words
Disclaimer: The author makes no claims of ownership to any material that may be recognized by the public. Additionally, he makes no income or profits from this exercise.
Spoilers: Primarily Episode 03x03 - Remedial Chaos Theory
Summary: “That's the secret of the universe, you know. Billions of people, making billions of choices, creating infinite Earths. Some so similar to each other that you could spend a lifetime searching for any difference. Others so radically different, they defy comprehension.” - Owlman
Notes: Action, adventure, romance. A Jedi craves not these things. But that’s what you’re gonna find here. Been working on this about a year, off and on since June of 2012. Oh, and there’s no Jedi here. Seriously, none.
And as always, sorry for the typos.
The words echoed in his mind the entire time he was there. His leader had given him only a simple description of the item, and where it would be located. And in hindsight, it would have been prudent to ask for information on guard sizes, strengths, and make-ups. The thief should have asked what type of protection this item would have.
But he didn’t. The command was simple. Get the item. And that meant by any means necessary.
The mission was simple enough. He naturally waited until nightfall, when the museum closed in the late evening. He made no attempts to hide, instead staying out of the sight lines of the minders of the exhibits, sometimes distracting them with a disarming smile and a slow, thoughtful jaunt towards the exit but always into another room. He was in offices, in large supply closets, anything really to get closer to his target.
It was at 1:32 a.m. when the thief finally exited his hiding place and clung to the shadows, as there was no need to draw attention to himself. He was cognizant of the biological means of security that roamed the halls with communication devices. There was no care paid attention though to the vast amount of electronic surveillance in this establishment.
When he was in the basement, he raised an eyebrow at the vault door, passed the security checkpoint that now contained two guards who were the first of many casualties. He wasn’t necessarily afraid of this complication, of killing, but he wasn’t necessarily pleased either. Shrugging his shoulders, the thief stepped forward and put both hands on the imposing vault door. The metal was cool to the touch, as he figured, and it was the only thing standing between him and his goal.
The clomping of shoes, the sound of guards running down concrete floored passageways broke him from his reverie. He turned to find flashlights pointed at him, and he flashed a smug grin. It was time to pull the kids gloves off. It was time to work.
_______
She was jerked out of a blissful dream of sunning herself with no one around at Frinton-on-Sea. Clad in a modest bikini, she’d, for what seemed like hours, enjoyed the warm sun and the sound of the surf until a piercing set of rings destroyed the utter calm. The sun turned into a large fluffy duvet that kept her warm, and the bikini transformed into the t-shirt and sleeping shorts she normally wore to bed. Sadly, the pale skin she was trying to remedy on the beach remained pale as Annie Edison took a deep breath and cursed. From under the warm blanket, a hand crept out towards the nightstand, clawing for the dreaded harbinger of horrible information. She hated calls received on this phone, because it meant more work than her normal load.
Neither did it help that it was an extremely early Saturday morning phone call and she’d only gotten to sleep a few hours prior.
Pulling the offending device under the covers, Annie’s eyes adjusted to the bright screen which cleared from an even brighter blur to clear lines of text. She sighed, still snug but now fully awake and burdened with the prospect of leaving her incredibly comfortable bed.
Maybe just a few more minutes….
The phone beeped again,
She was doomed.
_______
“Why don’t I have a place here?”
Britta Perry threw her hands in the air, exasperated by the line of questioning. For the last three hours, her boss had been asking every twenty-seven point five minutes why he didn’t own personal property in London.
“Because you’re only here once every quarter; you would use this place less than you do the lodge in Aspen, or the penthouse in Vegas, or that really horrible place in Dubai.” She looked at Jeff Winger, who was himself staring smugly into the mirror as he did his tie. He turned to her and smiled devilishly. “And this whole vanity project is a waste of time.”
“You know you love it. C’mon Britta, just think. The Perry Pavellion, home to cutting edge environmental research”
She rolled her eyes. “Only you Jeff, only you could trivialize the importance of protecting a planet in peril.”
“Uh, I am protecting a planet in peril.”
“Not in that way.”
Winger turned again grabbed the suit coat, and pulled it on with a practiced ease. “What’s the schedule like?” Britta’s WingerPad was already out, her finger tapping on the screen, occasionally clacking a fingernail or two against it against it.
“There’s a 12:15 luncheon with the Queen and Duke, followed by a polo mat-”
“Hate polo, cancel it.”
“You own three of the horses and the team.”
“Britta, I own a lot of things. That doesn’t mean I need to take my time to pat a few people on the back and say good job as they play golf on ponies.”
“Fine, polo match cancelled.”
“Who was the Page 3 Girl today?”
He was trying to get a rise out of her, knowing Britta’s strong feminist streak would burst loose from the tight confines of wherever she stored it when dealing with him. “I am not setting you up on a date with that poor woman who is constantly exploited by the-”
“We could get you a Page 3 Guy? Double date?”
Perry did her best to not to punch her employer, even if it would have been satisfying. “We are not having this conversation.”
Checking his perfect scruff, and smiling at the mirror one last time, he strode towards the door of the penthouse and into the warm London summer.
_______
“Come in.”
Annie slowly opened the door and peeked her head in, cautious of the person inside. As much as she loved visiting the woman who beckoned her in social and non-business settings, this would not be one of those meetings. She quickly entered and saluted the woman in front of her, then waited for permission to sit.
“You’re late.”
“I came as soon as I got your message. Traffic is hellacious today.”
“Sit.” Annie’s superior waved her towards a chair, not even deigning to look up at the younger woman. “At two a.m. this morning, alarms were triggered at the British Museum. When Metropolitan Police arrived on scene, they found ten guards dead, either by dismemberment or crushed to death.” Shirley Bennett, Chief Superintendent of the Criminal Investigations Unit, Ministry of Defence Police, finally looked up at her subordinate with a fire in her eyes.
“Shouldn’t the Met be looking into this? It’s their jurisdiction.”
“They can’t.” Chief Bennett passed the now closed file folder containing the report across the desk towards Annie. The younger woman immediately grabbed the file and devoured its contents, and after half a minute looked up at the older woman. “Do you see the reason?” Thin eyebrows raised high, and she blinked wide blue eyes once, twice.
“This isn’t right.”
“You see the reason, then.”
“NO. This cannot be right.”
“I need you down there. You’re one of the few who can actually work this case. I already have the Ministry breathing down my neck, wanting an answer for why we’ve taken authority. I certainly don’t need any more coming in questioning what happened.”
Annie closed the file in front of her, having memorized in a short time. “Does anyone else know yet?”
“No. One of our officers was in the area and arrived on scene seconds after the MPS and shut down the area until we could get a team down there. I’ve been doing damage control and holding them off until I could get your lazy little arse here.” Bennett never swore, unless she was extremely angry. The young brunette easily sensed it upon entering the office, and that temper that had gotten Shirley Bennett so far in her profession was going to come to a boil very quickly unless action was taken.
Rumor, after all, had it that as an officer, Bennett put several different perpetrators head’s through jukebox glass windows.
“I have to let them know. There’s no way around it.” Annie could only fidget while her mind whirled at the implications of what was to come.
Shirley closed her eyes and sighed rather loudly. “You do remember who you work for?”
“I don’t want to think about what I’m going to tell them.”
“Then you better get down to that scene and get on top of this before anything explodes.”
Bennett was dismissing the young agent before she got an answer she knew would come anyway. Annie jumped to her feet and saluted again. “Understood ma’am.”
“Annie?”
“Yes ma’am.” Shirley looked up and smiled. Her tone was more upbeat and friendly, a complete reversal of her attitude only seconds before.
“Don’t forget about Sunday dinner. You know the boys hate when you miss.”
“Oh that’s not fair.”
“At least try and make it. Now, shoo.”
Annie vanished as quickly as she could.
_______
The roar of the engines reverberated through the empty hull of the C-130J flying overhead London, and it was enough to distract Jeff momentarily from what was going on below. He checked the time, and then pushed the call button.
“Are we there?”
A crackled voice came through the line. Winger loved the exuberant loadmaster of this aircraft, as he and the two pilots were fawning over Jeff when he stepped on board twenty minutes beforehand. “We’re over the drop zone. Opening ramp. Good luck sir.”
“Never needed it. See you boys on the ground.”
Jeff jogged down the ramp and with reckless abandon, leapt into a free fall. This was the fun part, where he made a spectacular entrance.
The first mile was a pure exhilaration, watching the fireworks bursting around him. Arms held parallel to his body, legs straight, only his head inclined upward so he could scan the ground. The second mile he started a somersault and glided himself as much as one could with no way of decelerating from a 22,000 foot, three and three quarters mile descent with no wing suit or parachute to aid them. The altimeter ran wildly, the rapid acceleration blurring the two numbers left of the decimal point.
At five thousand feet even, he grinned and clicked his heels for the viewers below, and what appeared to be flame burst from the heel and sole of his boots. Arms outstretched, the palms of his gauntlets glowed and ignited to a smaller degree, and he had control of his descent. Twisting and turning he circled high around the landing area to bleed off a vast majority of his speed, and then targeted the exact center. Cutting the repulsors, he grinned again and landed.
Britta rolled her eyes at her boss’s antics as the familiar hotrod red and gold titanium alloyed armored suit dropped onto the heavily reinforced stage with a resounding, ground-pounding, thud heard over the blasting heavy metal music. Fireworks and stage pyrotechnics burst around him and the scantily clad dancers who wore small lights on their palms, emulating the now famous repulsors in the palm of his hands.
Her boss may be a jackass but he was also a hell of a showman, and he knew what the crowd wanted, hence using the same entrance as he did at the Winger Expo in Flushing Meadows, New York not a year before.
_______
“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can assist you with Miss-”
“Inspector.”
“Yes, Inspector Edison. I’m sure that I can be of some assistance in this matter….” The foppish man had been fawning all over her since she’d arrived at the lower vault in the British Museum, and she was about to arrest him for obstruction of justice. She’d interviewed the first officer on the scene, the head of museum security, and what seemed like hundreds of other people in the course of the last twelve hours. She’d discussed with the forensics team various scenarios, had looked at as many angles as she could while awaiting further developments. And yet, Annie was at a loss for how one man could sweep in and do as much damage in such a short amount of time.
The most boggling piece of the puzzle was the vault door itself. Nearly a foot and a half thick, perhaps a mixture of concrete and stainless steel, it now sat completely off its hinges with a hole punched clean through the other side. To the best of her knowledge, and without special means, there was no physical way a door could be so damaged and thrown to the side like so much refuse without some heavy machinery.
“We’ve got it!” She turned to see a young woman, perhaps a year older than herself, running towards the investigation team with a tablet computer in her hands. The five people in the large room looked to her while she took several moments for several deep gasps from the strenuous exercise.
With a bemused smile, Annie gripped both arms of the woman and helped her calm herself. “What have you got, Ms. Jenkins.”
“It’s Vicki ma’am, and I’ve got the footage of the bad guy!”
“Okay, okay. Calm down,” The exuberance was infectious, Annie noted, then took the tablet from the security officer. “Now, why didn’t we have this sooner Vicki?”
“Because we didn’t have the face. But we scanned all the footage for the last day, and found one person matching the profile.” She grabbed the tablet back from Edison and tapped a icons on the screen. The video, culled from earlier recordings, was crystal clear with various angles as the footage followed the man around the exhibits.
“That’s…you’re kidding, right?”
“No ma’am, we’ve triple checked everything. We have a zero point zero zero two percent deviation. It’s him.”
Annie watched the man walk around the exhibits, rarely ever letting his face be seen, yet glimpses were made, be it through reflections or a random frame here and there. “We can’t go on just video.”
“We have three adjuncts who can verify they spoke with him.” Tapping another file, Vicki handed the tablet completely over to Annie. “It’s him.” The recording switched to the vault area, where the thief placed his hands on the vault door, braced himself, then punched the door with a solid hit. The viewers could almost hear the unrecorded gong of a fist hitting the solid door. Another punch, then the attacker braced his self and struck again and again. To the amazement of the surrounded investigators, a dent grew larger with each swing.
“That isn’t possible.”
“It’s quite possible in fact, Ms. Edison.”
“Inspector, Duncan, I won’t tell you again. And you can kindly mind other people’s personal space.” She swore to herself if he tried to fondle her one more time, she would not be responsible for the consequences. The intruder’s arm pulled back one more time and smashed completely through the door. Around him, several guards stepped forward, but without audio, it would never be known what was originally said. The interloper turned, although his face was still obscured, this time by shadows. The next minute of footage made everyone cringe, if not groan or lose their lunch.
Edison knew enough about tablets to know how to turn videos off. “Where is this son of a bitch?”
_______
Two large rings rose out of the small platform that now started revolving as Jeff held his arms out wide, eliciting cheers and applause even wilder then when he landed. The support gantry starting dismantling the armor, various mechanical arms retrieving pieces of the Iron Man armor, revealing the tall man with perfectly messed hair and the perfect amount of scruff on a chiseled jaw.
“Hello London!” The crowd roared. He felt the boots finally unlock, the last pieces to be taken off, and literally walked out of the exoskeleton in an unrumpled three piece suit he’d had customer tailored for the occasion. “It’s great to be here.” He turned to the dancers who surrounded him, whose arms were still outstretched and palms open revealing the mock repulsors, then put his hands together in a praying gesture and bowed his head. “Thank you ladies.” Winger turned back to the adoring public and stretched his arms wide once more. “Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to the Winger Industries International Expo 2014! It’s been a busy year and we have a lot to celebrate. And this time, I promise no mass destruction and mayhem.”
Playing to the crowd, he recited the opening speech word for word from what he’d written inside his head while falling to the ground. Behind him were images of the past Winger Expos displayed, starting with the various expos of the past alongside images of the most recent one in America, sans the attack by Richard Stevenson’s military drones. “We’re going to top what we did a year ago, and we’re going to show the world that with technology, the future can and will be, a better place.” Roars and cheers came from the throngs, as Jeff pulled out the trademark smile, then waved and blew his trademark kiss to the crowd twice and waved to the audience. “Welcome again, to the Winger Expo!”
And just as quickly as he arrived, he briskly walked backstage, meeting Britta and some unknown gopher who offered him a bottle of water. Perry immediately grabbed it and set it down on the small table. “I figured you’d be more original, but not bad.”
“Go with what works. The crowd loved it.”
“Yes, and now I’m going to deal with your over-inflated ego for the next six months. Should I expect trouble in about a month?”
“Britta, nothing is going to happen this time. Stevenson’s locked up, and Radison iss dust and echoes. Stop. Worrying.” Winger grabbed the bottle of water on the table and gulped it down after breaking the seal on the cap.
Shaking her head, knowing the argument was effectively over, she took the now empty water from him in order to gain some last second victory. “You pay me to worry about this stuff. I’m worrying.”
“Don’t. Agenda?”
“Nothing.”
“Not even the Page Three Girl?” She promptly threw the empty bottle at him. “Kidding!”
_______
Taking several deep breaths, knowing the hell she was about to bring down on herself, Annie steeled her nerves before stepping out of the police escort vehicle. Two officers had been dispatched to her for taking the suspect into custody, but she wished there were fifteen more for crowd control.
“Inspector, are you su-”
“For the last time, yes.”
One officer, a worried look on his face, pulled out a set of handcuffs and motioned to them. “Think we’ll need them?”
“We’ll. If he resists, then we restrain him. Gentleman, we are not going to make a scene. The pride of the Her Majesty’s Law Enforcement is on the line here. So we best not cause a stir.”
The three walked towards their suspect’s waiting vehicle, hanging just on the periphery of the crowd, yet near enough to intercept them.
_______
Winger’s big grin lit the stairs down to the waiting sports car, dazzling the throngs of fans surrounding him. Stopping to sign the occasional souvenir program held out, Britta touched his forearm in order to keep him on schedule. He was walking down the final few stairs when a woman in a smart looking blazer and skirt caught his attention. The woman stepped forward, blue eyes staring directly into his soul. In most cases, Jeff would turn on the charm, but something in the back of his mind tingled trouble.
“Well, last time a woman met me at my car at an expo, I had a congressional hearing all about me.”
“So I heard, Mr. Winger.”
“So you have a summons for me? House of Commons or Lords?”
“No. Is it possible to speak in private?” The billionaire chuckled to himself, and turned to his assistant.
“You got me a Page Three Girl after all? Britta, you shouldn’t have.”
Perry blanched and Annie gave a startled gasp, then put her hand out for the handcuffs. “Jeff Winger, I am arresting you on suspicion of grand larceny and murder in the first degree. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.” Everyone in the crowd reacted in shock to the inspector’s statement, save for the officers who circled and surrounded the man and grabbed both his arms.
“Whoa whoa whoa. What’s the charges.” Britta was in Annie’s face, her finger poking the younger woman in the chest rather hard. The brunette stepped back, brushing the hand away and turning towards Winger. Cuffing him, she let the officers take over leading him to the waiting police cruiser.
And he let himself be led away, but looked back at his assistance and gave her a hard glare. “Get me a lawyer, quick.” With this many people around, there was no need to make the press headlines even more grandiose by resisting or playing the fool.
The blonde was back in her face. “Ms. Perry, believe me when I say that I find no pleasure in doing this.”
“You better be sure you know what you’re doing little girl.” Britta turned and walked off, cell phone already attached to her ear.
“You and me both.” Annie said to herself.
_______
Author’s Notes: Due to Season 4 of Community ending next week and Iron Man 3 coming out this week, I figured I’d better get this up and out. Still a work in progress, and updates will be weekly or every other week. So bear with me.
Oh, and think crossover. LOTS of crossover, out of left field. We're gonna have some fun. Blatantly unapologetic fun. But fun nonetheless.
Author: Christmas Pterodactyl
Rating: PG-13 to R
Word count: 3,647 words
Disclaimer: The author makes no claims of ownership to any material that may be recognized by the public. Additionally, he makes no income or profits from this exercise.
Spoilers: Primarily Episode 03x03 - Remedial Chaos Theory
Summary: “That's the secret of the universe, you know. Billions of people, making billions of choices, creating infinite Earths. Some so similar to each other that you could spend a lifetime searching for any difference. Others so radically different, they defy comprehension.” - Owlman
Notes: Action, adventure, romance. A Jedi craves not these things. But that’s what you’re gonna find here. Been working on this about a year, off and on since June of 2012. Oh, and there’s no Jedi here. Seriously, none.
And as always, sorry for the typos.
The words echoed in his mind the entire time he was there. His leader had given him only a simple description of the item, and where it would be located. And in hindsight, it would have been prudent to ask for information on guard sizes, strengths, and make-ups. The thief should have asked what type of protection this item would have.
But he didn’t. The command was simple. Get the item. And that meant by any means necessary.
The mission was simple enough. He naturally waited until nightfall, when the museum closed in the late evening. He made no attempts to hide, instead staying out of the sight lines of the minders of the exhibits, sometimes distracting them with a disarming smile and a slow, thoughtful jaunt towards the exit but always into another room. He was in offices, in large supply closets, anything really to get closer to his target.
It was at 1:32 a.m. when the thief finally exited his hiding place and clung to the shadows, as there was no need to draw attention to himself. He was cognizant of the biological means of security that roamed the halls with communication devices. There was no care paid attention though to the vast amount of electronic surveillance in this establishment.
When he was in the basement, he raised an eyebrow at the vault door, passed the security checkpoint that now contained two guards who were the first of many casualties. He wasn’t necessarily afraid of this complication, of killing, but he wasn’t necessarily pleased either. Shrugging his shoulders, the thief stepped forward and put both hands on the imposing vault door. The metal was cool to the touch, as he figured, and it was the only thing standing between him and his goal.
The clomping of shoes, the sound of guards running down concrete floored passageways broke him from his reverie. He turned to find flashlights pointed at him, and he flashed a smug grin. It was time to pull the kids gloves off. It was time to work.
_______
She was jerked out of a blissful dream of sunning herself with no one around at Frinton-on-Sea. Clad in a modest bikini, she’d, for what seemed like hours, enjoyed the warm sun and the sound of the surf until a piercing set of rings destroyed the utter calm. The sun turned into a large fluffy duvet that kept her warm, and the bikini transformed into the t-shirt and sleeping shorts she normally wore to bed. Sadly, the pale skin she was trying to remedy on the beach remained pale as Annie Edison took a deep breath and cursed. From under the warm blanket, a hand crept out towards the nightstand, clawing for the dreaded harbinger of horrible information. She hated calls received on this phone, because it meant more work than her normal load.
Neither did it help that it was an extremely early Saturday morning phone call and she’d only gotten to sleep a few hours prior.
Pulling the offending device under the covers, Annie’s eyes adjusted to the bright screen which cleared from an even brighter blur to clear lines of text. She sighed, still snug but now fully awake and burdened with the prospect of leaving her incredibly comfortable bed.
Maybe just a few more minutes….
The phone beeped again,
She was doomed.
_______
“Why don’t I have a place here?”
Britta Perry threw her hands in the air, exasperated by the line of questioning. For the last three hours, her boss had been asking every twenty-seven point five minutes why he didn’t own personal property in London.
“Because you’re only here once every quarter; you would use this place less than you do the lodge in Aspen, or the penthouse in Vegas, or that really horrible place in Dubai.” She looked at Jeff Winger, who was himself staring smugly into the mirror as he did his tie. He turned to her and smiled devilishly. “And this whole vanity project is a waste of time.”
“You know you love it. C’mon Britta, just think. The Perry Pavellion, home to cutting edge environmental research”
She rolled her eyes. “Only you Jeff, only you could trivialize the importance of protecting a planet in peril.”
“Uh, I am protecting a planet in peril.”
“Not in that way.”
Winger turned again grabbed the suit coat, and pulled it on with a practiced ease. “What’s the schedule like?” Britta’s WingerPad was already out, her finger tapping on the screen, occasionally clacking a fingernail or two against it against it.
“There’s a 12:15 luncheon with the Queen and Duke, followed by a polo mat-”
“Hate polo, cancel it.”
“You own three of the horses and the team.”
“Britta, I own a lot of things. That doesn’t mean I need to take my time to pat a few people on the back and say good job as they play golf on ponies.”
“Fine, polo match cancelled.”
“Who was the Page 3 Girl today?”
He was trying to get a rise out of her, knowing Britta’s strong feminist streak would burst loose from the tight confines of wherever she stored it when dealing with him. “I am not setting you up on a date with that poor woman who is constantly exploited by the-”
“We could get you a Page 3 Guy? Double date?”
Perry did her best to not to punch her employer, even if it would have been satisfying. “We are not having this conversation.”
Checking his perfect scruff, and smiling at the mirror one last time, he strode towards the door of the penthouse and into the warm London summer.
_______
“Come in.”
Annie slowly opened the door and peeked her head in, cautious of the person inside. As much as she loved visiting the woman who beckoned her in social and non-business settings, this would not be one of those meetings. She quickly entered and saluted the woman in front of her, then waited for permission to sit.
“You’re late.”
“I came as soon as I got your message. Traffic is hellacious today.”
“Sit.” Annie’s superior waved her towards a chair, not even deigning to look up at the younger woman. “At two a.m. this morning, alarms were triggered at the British Museum. When Metropolitan Police arrived on scene, they found ten guards dead, either by dismemberment or crushed to death.” Shirley Bennett, Chief Superintendent of the Criminal Investigations Unit, Ministry of Defence Police, finally looked up at her subordinate with a fire in her eyes.
“Shouldn’t the Met be looking into this? It’s their jurisdiction.”
“They can’t.” Chief Bennett passed the now closed file folder containing the report across the desk towards Annie. The younger woman immediately grabbed the file and devoured its contents, and after half a minute looked up at the older woman. “Do you see the reason?” Thin eyebrows raised high, and she blinked wide blue eyes once, twice.
“This isn’t right.”
“You see the reason, then.”
“NO. This cannot be right.”
“I need you down there. You’re one of the few who can actually work this case. I already have the Ministry breathing down my neck, wanting an answer for why we’ve taken authority. I certainly don’t need any more coming in questioning what happened.”
Annie closed the file in front of her, having memorized in a short time. “Does anyone else know yet?”
“No. One of our officers was in the area and arrived on scene seconds after the MPS and shut down the area until we could get a team down there. I’ve been doing damage control and holding them off until I could get your lazy little arse here.” Bennett never swore, unless she was extremely angry. The young brunette easily sensed it upon entering the office, and that temper that had gotten Shirley Bennett so far in her profession was going to come to a boil very quickly unless action was taken.
Rumor, after all, had it that as an officer, Bennett put several different perpetrators head’s through jukebox glass windows.
“I have to let them know. There’s no way around it.” Annie could only fidget while her mind whirled at the implications of what was to come.
Shirley closed her eyes and sighed rather loudly. “You do remember who you work for?”
“I don’t want to think about what I’m going to tell them.”
“Then you better get down to that scene and get on top of this before anything explodes.”
Bennett was dismissing the young agent before she got an answer she knew would come anyway. Annie jumped to her feet and saluted again. “Understood ma’am.”
“Annie?”
“Yes ma’am.” Shirley looked up and smiled. Her tone was more upbeat and friendly, a complete reversal of her attitude only seconds before.
“Don’t forget about Sunday dinner. You know the boys hate when you miss.”
“Oh that’s not fair.”
“At least try and make it. Now, shoo.”
Annie vanished as quickly as she could.
_______
The roar of the engines reverberated through the empty hull of the C-130J flying overhead London, and it was enough to distract Jeff momentarily from what was going on below. He checked the time, and then pushed the call button.
“Are we there?”
A crackled voice came through the line. Winger loved the exuberant loadmaster of this aircraft, as he and the two pilots were fawning over Jeff when he stepped on board twenty minutes beforehand. “We’re over the drop zone. Opening ramp. Good luck sir.”
“Never needed it. See you boys on the ground.”
Jeff jogged down the ramp and with reckless abandon, leapt into a free fall. This was the fun part, where he made a spectacular entrance.
The first mile was a pure exhilaration, watching the fireworks bursting around him. Arms held parallel to his body, legs straight, only his head inclined upward so he could scan the ground. The second mile he started a somersault and glided himself as much as one could with no way of decelerating from a 22,000 foot, three and three quarters mile descent with no wing suit or parachute to aid them. The altimeter ran wildly, the rapid acceleration blurring the two numbers left of the decimal point.
At five thousand feet even, he grinned and clicked his heels for the viewers below, and what appeared to be flame burst from the heel and sole of his boots. Arms outstretched, the palms of his gauntlets glowed and ignited to a smaller degree, and he had control of his descent. Twisting and turning he circled high around the landing area to bleed off a vast majority of his speed, and then targeted the exact center. Cutting the repulsors, he grinned again and landed.
Britta rolled her eyes at her boss’s antics as the familiar hotrod red and gold titanium alloyed armored suit dropped onto the heavily reinforced stage with a resounding, ground-pounding, thud heard over the blasting heavy metal music. Fireworks and stage pyrotechnics burst around him and the scantily clad dancers who wore small lights on their palms, emulating the now famous repulsors in the palm of his hands.
Her boss may be a jackass but he was also a hell of a showman, and he knew what the crowd wanted, hence using the same entrance as he did at the Winger Expo in Flushing Meadows, New York not a year before.
_______
“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can assist you with Miss-”
“Inspector.”
“Yes, Inspector Edison. I’m sure that I can be of some assistance in this matter….” The foppish man had been fawning all over her since she’d arrived at the lower vault in the British Museum, and she was about to arrest him for obstruction of justice. She’d interviewed the first officer on the scene, the head of museum security, and what seemed like hundreds of other people in the course of the last twelve hours. She’d discussed with the forensics team various scenarios, had looked at as many angles as she could while awaiting further developments. And yet, Annie was at a loss for how one man could sweep in and do as much damage in such a short amount of time.
The most boggling piece of the puzzle was the vault door itself. Nearly a foot and a half thick, perhaps a mixture of concrete and stainless steel, it now sat completely off its hinges with a hole punched clean through the other side. To the best of her knowledge, and without special means, there was no physical way a door could be so damaged and thrown to the side like so much refuse without some heavy machinery.
“We’ve got it!” She turned to see a young woman, perhaps a year older than herself, running towards the investigation team with a tablet computer in her hands. The five people in the large room looked to her while she took several moments for several deep gasps from the strenuous exercise.
With a bemused smile, Annie gripped both arms of the woman and helped her calm herself. “What have you got, Ms. Jenkins.”
“It’s Vicki ma’am, and I’ve got the footage of the bad guy!”
“Okay, okay. Calm down,” The exuberance was infectious, Annie noted, then took the tablet from the security officer. “Now, why didn’t we have this sooner Vicki?”
“Because we didn’t have the face. But we scanned all the footage for the last day, and found one person matching the profile.” She grabbed the tablet back from Edison and tapped a icons on the screen. The video, culled from earlier recordings, was crystal clear with various angles as the footage followed the man around the exhibits.
“That’s…you’re kidding, right?”
“No ma’am, we’ve triple checked everything. We have a zero point zero zero two percent deviation. It’s him.”
Annie watched the man walk around the exhibits, rarely ever letting his face be seen, yet glimpses were made, be it through reflections or a random frame here and there. “We can’t go on just video.”
“We have three adjuncts who can verify they spoke with him.” Tapping another file, Vicki handed the tablet completely over to Annie. “It’s him.” The recording switched to the vault area, where the thief placed his hands on the vault door, braced himself, then punched the door with a solid hit. The viewers could almost hear the unrecorded gong of a fist hitting the solid door. Another punch, then the attacker braced his self and struck again and again. To the amazement of the surrounded investigators, a dent grew larger with each swing.
“That isn’t possible.”
“It’s quite possible in fact, Ms. Edison.”
“Inspector, Duncan, I won’t tell you again. And you can kindly mind other people’s personal space.” She swore to herself if he tried to fondle her one more time, she would not be responsible for the consequences. The intruder’s arm pulled back one more time and smashed completely through the door. Around him, several guards stepped forward, but without audio, it would never be known what was originally said. The interloper turned, although his face was still obscured, this time by shadows. The next minute of footage made everyone cringe, if not groan or lose their lunch.
Edison knew enough about tablets to know how to turn videos off. “Where is this son of a bitch?”
_______
Two large rings rose out of the small platform that now started revolving as Jeff held his arms out wide, eliciting cheers and applause even wilder then when he landed. The support gantry starting dismantling the armor, various mechanical arms retrieving pieces of the Iron Man armor, revealing the tall man with perfectly messed hair and the perfect amount of scruff on a chiseled jaw.
“Hello London!” The crowd roared. He felt the boots finally unlock, the last pieces to be taken off, and literally walked out of the exoskeleton in an unrumpled three piece suit he’d had customer tailored for the occasion. “It’s great to be here.” He turned to the dancers who surrounded him, whose arms were still outstretched and palms open revealing the mock repulsors, then put his hands together in a praying gesture and bowed his head. “Thank you ladies.” Winger turned back to the adoring public and stretched his arms wide once more. “Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to the Winger Industries International Expo 2014! It’s been a busy year and we have a lot to celebrate. And this time, I promise no mass destruction and mayhem.”
Playing to the crowd, he recited the opening speech word for word from what he’d written inside his head while falling to the ground. Behind him were images of the past Winger Expos displayed, starting with the various expos of the past alongside images of the most recent one in America, sans the attack by Richard Stevenson’s military drones. “We’re going to top what we did a year ago, and we’re going to show the world that with technology, the future can and will be, a better place.” Roars and cheers came from the throngs, as Jeff pulled out the trademark smile, then waved and blew his trademark kiss to the crowd twice and waved to the audience. “Welcome again, to the Winger Expo!”
And just as quickly as he arrived, he briskly walked backstage, meeting Britta and some unknown gopher who offered him a bottle of water. Perry immediately grabbed it and set it down on the small table. “I figured you’d be more original, but not bad.”
“Go with what works. The crowd loved it.”
“Yes, and now I’m going to deal with your over-inflated ego for the next six months. Should I expect trouble in about a month?”
“Britta, nothing is going to happen this time. Stevenson’s locked up, and Radison iss dust and echoes. Stop. Worrying.” Winger grabbed the bottle of water on the table and gulped it down after breaking the seal on the cap.
Shaking her head, knowing the argument was effectively over, she took the now empty water from him in order to gain some last second victory. “You pay me to worry about this stuff. I’m worrying.”
“Don’t. Agenda?”
“Nothing.”
“Not even the Page Three Girl?” She promptly threw the empty bottle at him. “Kidding!”
_______
Taking several deep breaths, knowing the hell she was about to bring down on herself, Annie steeled her nerves before stepping out of the police escort vehicle. Two officers had been dispatched to her for taking the suspect into custody, but she wished there were fifteen more for crowd control.
“Inspector, are you su-”
“For the last time, yes.”
One officer, a worried look on his face, pulled out a set of handcuffs and motioned to them. “Think we’ll need them?”
“We’ll. If he resists, then we restrain him. Gentleman, we are not going to make a scene. The pride of the Her Majesty’s Law Enforcement is on the line here. So we best not cause a stir.”
The three walked towards their suspect’s waiting vehicle, hanging just on the periphery of the crowd, yet near enough to intercept them.
_______
Winger’s big grin lit the stairs down to the waiting sports car, dazzling the throngs of fans surrounding him. Stopping to sign the occasional souvenir program held out, Britta touched his forearm in order to keep him on schedule. He was walking down the final few stairs when a woman in a smart looking blazer and skirt caught his attention. The woman stepped forward, blue eyes staring directly into his soul. In most cases, Jeff would turn on the charm, but something in the back of his mind tingled trouble.
“Well, last time a woman met me at my car at an expo, I had a congressional hearing all about me.”
“So I heard, Mr. Winger.”
“So you have a summons for me? House of Commons or Lords?”
“No. Is it possible to speak in private?” The billionaire chuckled to himself, and turned to his assistant.
“You got me a Page Three Girl after all? Britta, you shouldn’t have.”
Perry blanched and Annie gave a startled gasp, then put her hand out for the handcuffs. “Jeff Winger, I am arresting you on suspicion of grand larceny and murder in the first degree. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.” Everyone in the crowd reacted in shock to the inspector’s statement, save for the officers who circled and surrounded the man and grabbed both his arms.
“Whoa whoa whoa. What’s the charges.” Britta was in Annie’s face, her finger poking the younger woman in the chest rather hard. The brunette stepped back, brushing the hand away and turning towards Winger. Cuffing him, she let the officers take over leading him to the waiting police cruiser.
And he let himself be led away, but looked back at his assistance and gave her a hard glare. “Get me a lawyer, quick.” With this many people around, there was no need to make the press headlines even more grandiose by resisting or playing the fool.
The blonde was back in her face. “Ms. Perry, believe me when I say that I find no pleasure in doing this.”
“You better be sure you know what you’re doing little girl.” Britta turned and walked off, cell phone already attached to her ear.
“You and me both.” Annie said to herself.
_______
Author’s Notes: Due to Season 4 of Community ending next week and Iron Man 3 coming out this week, I figured I’d better get this up and out. Still a work in progress, and updates will be weekly or every other week. So bear with me.
Oh, and think crossover. LOTS of crossover, out of left field. We're gonna have some fun. Blatantly unapologetic fun. But fun nonetheless.