Chapitre 22: Chapter 22: 3-3 Charmed
Charmed 3.3
2000, July 5: Phoenix, AZ, USA
Truth be told, Camille was very close to my image of an ideal woman. In the past, I probably would have shot my shot and made a fool of myself trying to impress her only to get pathetically rejected after buying her a drink or something. She was beautiful, charming, well-spoken, and had a career that made for an interesting life. I felt no small regret that I was stuck in the body of an eight year old.
We cruised along slowly and surprisingly, it was Camille who struck up a conversation with me.
"So, Andy, tell me about yourself. I hear you've made some big ripples for such a little guy," she smiled teasingly.
I chuckled bashfully. "I just made a few potions. It's not my fault some bigwigs decided I'd be cutting into their bottom line."
"Hah, you mean fat cats are greedy? What else is new?"
"Yeah, I should have expected that. Still, there's plenty to do around here without throwing hospital visits into the mix. With the way the city's been blowing up, it feels like the world's going to catch fire."
"Already did up north, I hear," she said wryly. "You know what they say. Bad things come in threes."
"Yeah. Masked Bandit, another Ward, is up there right now helping out by making fire breaks and stuff." I had an idea. Hat Trick had brushed my suspicions off as paranoid, but perhaps the crisis management consultant would think differently. "Say, do you think there's any connection between the prison breaks and the wildfire in Prescott National Forest?"
"What do you mean? I hear it's fire season in Phoenix."
"It is, but the timing seems a bit too convenient."
She scrunched her nose in thought and I couldn't help but think the expression looked good on her. "Maybe, but it's unlikely. From what I know about La Torcha, Dos Caras, and Freeform, it's none of their modus operandi. There's no reason to dismiss the possibility though. I'll look into it," she promised.
I nodded. Talking to her was comforting. She felt like a very charming person and those big, expressive eyes made me want to trust her.
"Andy? You okay, cutie?" She shook my shoulder gently. I didn't realize I hadn't stopped nodding.
"Yeah," I said, rubbing my eyes. I opened my bag to show her the dozens of blue crystals inside. "I guess I'm a bit tired. I didn't get much sleep last night. I tried to make as many Mana Crystals as I could. I just… I feel like I need to be doing something, you know?"
"I do, believe it or not. I think I can understand that. But that doesn't mean you should work yourself to the bone like that," she admonished gently. She sounded so caring, so concerned. "Say, Vincent."
"Yes, Camille?" Agent Morrison spoke up from the driver's seat. I didn't know his first name was Vincent. I chuckled to myself. It didn't seem to suit him. I thought it'd be John or Sam or something more cowboy-ish. "Vincent" made me think of "my cousin Vinnie" from New York.
"I have that noon meeting, right? The one with Deputy Director Silva and the squad captains? Nothing else before?"
"No, I don't think so. You wanna play hooky? How old are you, Camille?"
She thumped his backrest with a kick. "Hey! I'm still in my twenties! Besides, I think Andy can use some time off."
"Been tellin' him that. Kid could use a break."
"I don't-" I started to argue, but Camille placed a single dainty finger on my lips.
"Hush, Andy. I know burnout when I see it," she chided. "You've worked so hard to keep people safe. Don't you think you could use a break?"
'I've never had a total stranger care so much for me,' I thought. She sounded so warm and genuine. "I can't. What if someone gets hurt because I wasn't there?"
"That's not on you. If they get hurt, it's because they were unlucky or careless. You're not responsible for them," she said matter-of-factly.
I frowned. "I get that but…"
"It's hard to accept sometimes, isn't it? But it's something you have to get used to. Not even Scion can save everyone."
"Yeah…" Going through my first city-wide crisis, I now had an in-depth understanding of what Amy must have felt in canon. The truth was that I didn't care much for the average person. I cared for those close to me: the Wards, mom, and perhaps a few PRT troopers and Protectorate heroes I'd met in person. I didn't have the iron discipline or gnawing guilt that drove Amy to care for everyone. Even so, even this much felt like a lead weight on my heart. I was older than them. Seeing them go off to fight while I sat around safe in my lab felt wrong.
"Andy, what are the rest of the Wards up to? You said Masked Bandit was up north helping out with the wildfire."
"Ranchero and Stingray were deputized so they're handling regular gang members with the cops. Hat Trick is off doing ride-alongs with the EMTs."
"Right. They're all safe," she assured me. "None of your friends are being asked to duke it out with La Torcha, cutie. They're all equipped with your tinkertech, right?"
"They all have potions."
"Of course they do. And who's going to attack an ambulance? Even gangbangers know to not mess with the people who keep you alive. They're not going to get hurt because you take a little break."
"Ranchero and Stingray might," I said stubbornly, but my argument was undercut by a suppressed yawn.
"You're so cute when you worry," she cooed. "But EMTs and doctors take breaks too or they burn out. You're a smart boy. You know that, don't you?"
I yawned. It felt so comfortable. I almost felt drunk; I'd always been a sleepy drunk… "Maybe… Maybe a little is okay."
As I drifted off, I felt her pat my head gently. "You take a nap. At least until noon," she whispered. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine…"
X
I woke up sprawled on a comfortable sofa, the two-seater more than big enough for my small frame.
Before I could fully wake, the smooth, honeyed voice of an angel greeted me. "You're awake."
"Camille?" I asked, still bleary-eyed.
"Yes. It's almost noon. We don't have a lot here, but Vincent and I did pick up a sandwich for lunch. There's one for you in the fridge. We didn't know what you liked so you'll just have to settle for ham and cheese I'm afraid."
"Ham and cheese is fine." I fumbled around for a bit. "Sorry, can you give me my Oracle's? It's that water bottle with Hero's logo on it. I can't see anything right now."
"Oh, right, my bad, Andy."
I felt my familiar water bottle nudged into my hand. I drank and the world expanded around me.
I sat up and looked around. The three of us were in a large, generic office that doubled as a locker and kitchenette. It had gray, faux-wood floors and eggshell-white walls with an open window that I could look out of. The office was one of several on the second floor of a warehouse of some sort. A series of walkways and ramps connected them. Down below, crates were stacked neatly atop each other.
In the next room over, I found what could only be a rudimentary laboratory. It lacked the industrial-grade tools in my own lab, but it was surprisingly well-equipped. The lab contained an electric saw, welding torch, drop hammer, and even its own gas kiln. Another room had clearly once been an office like this one, but had been converted into a barrack of sorts, with metal bedframes bolted into the walls and Spartan nightstands. The beds didn't exactly look comfortable, but they'd suffice in a pinch.
Off in the distance, at the farthest edges of my range, I could see a few people taking a smoke break. A handful more were loading boxes into trucks while another man seemed to be listening to music in another office.
"Where is here exactly?"
Camille smiled and I felt the warm and fuzzies settle in my chest, banishing my unease. "We're in a safehouse of sorts," she said. The uneasiness immediately returned. At no point was hearing the word "safehouse" a good thing.
"After you fell asleep, we received notice that HQ has been attacked. I was given orders to rendezvous with other agents after taking you to safety." Agent Morrison continued. "I'll be heading out in a little bit to figure out how I can help."
"Wait what?"
"Andy, calm down," Camille admonished. "This warehouse was bought by the PRT and originally used to belong to a moving company. They had plans to renovate it into an offsite training area for unconventional powers, but they never got around to it thanks to the recent chaos. Instead, bureaucracy happened and it became an overgrown storage shed. Figures, right?"
"No, that's not the problem, Camille. What exactly happened? How come I'm not home?"
"It's nothing to worry about. Please let the experts handle this."
"Camille, please," I pleaded. "If I'm being shipped around, at least tell me what's going on."
She sighed. "I really shouldn't be telling you this, but fine. There was a bombing in the parking lot. We think the support pillars have been damaged. After that, several more were found in different places so the building was completely evacuated. Bomb squad technicians are combing the building as we speak. After that, we'll need engineers to come in and rate the building's structural integrity. Does that help?" She looked me in the eyes, full well expecting me to not understand.
"It does. But doesn't this mean I should be headed home? The Wards Handbook-"
"Says that, yes. But this is something of an emergency. I've never encountered a situation like this either if I'm honest. How did they get the bombs inside?"
Her words stuck me. "You think there were moles in the PRT."
"Yes. This means that until we know exactly how this happened, all civilian staff have been sent home and all heroes must act like their identities have been compromised. Right now, the Phoenix PRT has scattered to several different smaller offices. This one just happened to have what we needed for a small lab thanks to the whole 'was going to be a training site' thing." She smiled wryly. "I didn't think you'd accept being unable to help in a situation like this. And right now? We could use all the help you can provide."
Her words struck me as odd, but I couldn't put my finger on precisely why. I trusted her; Camille seemed like an extremely competent agent and my surroundings confirmed what she told me. Now that I looked closer, each crate had the logo of a company called the Red Sands Moving Company, a yellow sun over red mesas and a truck driving through. 'Still…' "Camille," I asked, "where are the other Wards? This safehouse… There are too few people, right? What about mom? Is she okay? Can I call her?"
"One at a time, Andy," she chided gently. "I know you're worried, but everything is fine. No one was seriously hurt in the explosion. We're just being extra-cautious. As for your mother, she's okay too. We made sure of that and have a few people keeping tabs on her. I'm sorry that I can't let you call her. We're all pretty much radio silent except for mission-critical calls."
"And… And the Wards?"
"You know where they are. They're off on patrols and ride-alongs. Right now, being on the move might actually be safer than being cooped up in one place. Really, Andy, don't worry about them. Or yourself. We'll take care of you, alright?"
She leaned forward and locked me in place with deep, expressive eyes. The concern and assurance in her tone made me feel a little guilty, perhaps irrationally so, for asking so many questions.
"Right. Sorry. I'm panicking a bit." I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
'She makes sense. Right?' I thought. 'It's hard to think. So much is happening all at once…' I didn't voice my thoughts.
"Thank you for indulging me, Camille," I said instead. "So what happens now?"
"No, you're doing great, Andy. I would have expected far worse from any other Ward. You're very mature for your age."
My chest swelled at her praise.
Agent Morrison spoke up. "Given the unusual circumstances, Camille and I will work out of this safehouse alongside you. We'll be your handlers, of sorts, until things calm down."
"Look on the upside," Camille said, sending me a genuine smile. "You and I will get to know each other real well. It's always nice to make new friends, don't you think?"
I nodded and felt my face redden a little. It wasn't lust per se, but even in a child's body, there was something uniquely appealing about having the friendship of a beautiful older woman.
Her silken voice sounded just about perfect, warm and empathetic with a bit of cheerful mischief. She made perfect sense. 'She's the crisis management consultant,' I thought. 'If anyone can be trusted in this scenario, it's her. There's no chance that she can be compromised after all; she's not even from here.'
Mind at ease, I took another look around with the Oracle's Elixir. The lab itself contained several large boxes of electronics, ranging from household appliances like toasters and microwaves to office supplies like computers and printers. I even saw some MIDI hardware, the sort used by high-end sound studios. That struck me as a bit strange.
'I'm an alchemist. Why would there be so many miscellaneous electronics lying around?' I wondered. I turned back to my handlers. 'It'd make some sense for tinkers to be put in the same location in an emergency, right? After all, there can't be too many spare labs lying around.'
"Will Gyroscope be joining us? The lab next door, there're a lot of electrical supplies that I don't use."
Agent Morrison shook his head. "Sorry, squirt, but no. Gyroscope is off coordinating a counterstrike against the SSM. He's got a bunch of police tailing him; his reconnaissance capabilities are too useful to take him off the field."
"Okay. I'll get to work right away." My stomach betrayed me, letting out an audible growl. I chuckled bashfully. "After lunch…"
X
I ate the ham and cheese sandwich in the fridge with gusto, barely tasting it so I could get to work. More than ever, people were counting on my potions.
I got to work immediately… Or, as immediately as could be allowed. Camille was somewhat surprised to learn that all I needed for health potions were nutrient shakes, but quickly ordered some of the men loitering outside to get me as much as they could from a nearby Costco. Fifteen minutes later, I was set.
The lab wasn't great, but I'd never been a "tools to build more tools to build more tools" type of tinker anyway. I needed some exotic or unusual materials, but I was very low-maintenance compared to other tinkers.
I'd found early on that if I could distill and concentrate the nutrient shakes a bit by boiling them before turning them into potions, the potions would be a little bit better. They wouldn't suddenly regenerate lost limbs or anything, but they would be slightly faster acting, and an extra few seconds could be lifesaving in a firefight. While I waited, I reached for my phone. I figured that even though I wasn't allowed to call anyone, I could still check the local news.
I came up empty.
I patted myself down even as I gave myself a once-over with the Oracle's.
No phone.
No relic pistol either.
A chill ran down my back. I turned around to see Camille and Agent Morrison. She smiled that sweet, comforting smile. "What's wrong, Andy?"
"I can't find my pho…" I trailed off as I noticed something strapped to her lower back. A pistol, though nothing made through conventional means.
A quick check revealed that no one around me carried ID cards issued by the PRT either.
She must have seen something in my eyes, because her charming smile gained a distinctly harsher edge. She snapped her finger and the man I'd thought was Agent Morrison changed, bulging with grotesque muscle until a Siberian tiger lounged by her side.
'Freeform,' I realized too late. I took a quick glance outside, only to find that more men had gathered. In the next room, the man who'd been listening to music stood and removed his earphones before facing me and giving me a cheery wave.
I summed up my present circumstances in a word: "Shit."
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