Chapter Two
Geoff Ringer was having one heck of a strange night. First off, as with many a full moon, a perp had been brought in claiming he was a werewolf. The man’s name was Jordan Peers, according to the ID the beat cops had taken from him. Normally, Ringer would have just written the guy off as crazy, but the man’s clothes were drenched red with blood. It didn’t appear to be his, either. There was no sign of any sort of wound or injury on the guy. Ringer was currently without a partner, and he didn’t trust the beat cops to handle the weirdo on their own. The guy had been yelling to be locked up before he changed again. When Ringer pointed out that the moon was already full, and it was the wee hours of the morning, the guy had rasped at him, “That’s not how it works in real life! Don’t you know anything?”
Ringer supposed he didn’t. Not about werewolves, anyway. Crazies he could handle. The guy was clearly a danger to himself and everyone else on the floor. He was freaking them out, too, with his constant wailing. Ringer had hauled back and punched the guy out with a single quick blow to his temple. Then, and only then, had he let the other officers present drag the guy into processing, so they could get him into a cell. Of course, all of that seemed normal, compared to what he was dealing with now.
The gent sitting across the desk from him was supposed to be some sort of federal agent, or at least that’s what Ringer had been told when he had been called down to speak with him. Mr. Dubin, if that was even his real name, was as whacked out as the werewolf guy, maybe even more so. But crazy or not, Mr. Dubin knew things about him that no one possibly could. Dubin had labeled him a TK and suggested that he could move things with his mind. That was true. He’d been able to do it since he was a young teenager, but he’d never told anyone about it. Ringer hid his abilities with great care. No one he’d ever known had suspected he was anything other than normal. The fact that this Dubin somehow knew about his power was disturbing enough, but that wasn’t all Dubin knew. Dubin also knew how his parents had died, and if knowing he had a power was impossible, having that knowledge was doubly so. Ringer wanted nothing more than to reach out and damage the man’s brain beyond any hope of restoration. A crushed vessel inside his brain, a blood bubble in the right place, and the trouble with Mr. Dubin would be over as quickly as it’d begun. Ringer wasn’t a killer, though, so his only choice was to deal with Dubin as best he could by talking things out and seeing what else the man might know. He’d lost his temper with the man, but he’d gotten it under control again as he’d taken a seat behind his desk the second time. Dubin wasn’t afraid of him. For someone who claimed to know about his powers, that was as odd as the man himself. Surely he had to know the danger he was in if he pushed too far, and Ringer lost the control he’d fought so hard to regain.
“So you saying I’m a TK, whatever the heck that is, and that vampires are real?” Ringer asked, watching Dubin closely. “You know I could have you locked up as a psych case, right?”
Dubin laughed. “You have no grounds on which to do so, Detective Ringer, unless you share with the others in this department why I’m here, and I very much suspect that’s not something you wish them to ever know about.”
Ringer took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, along with the lighter he kept there, and lit up. He sucked in a long drag, allowing the smoke to fill his lungs. “What makes you think they’d believe you?”
Mr. Dubin ignored him. “I believe you were asking about vampires being real, detective? We both know they are, and truly so. We’ve both seen proof of their existence firsthand, have we not? They aren’t the only monsters that roam this world, however. Werewolves, demons, Sasquatch, and too many others to name exist as well. They’re actually the reason I’m here. My employer recruits individuals who have abilities that exist outside the standard norms, and who can cope with the revelation that things that go bump in the night are real. It’s my job to seek out people like you and convince you to join the fight against the ever-growing darkness that’s out there.”
“You are trying to tell me you came here to offer me a job!” Ringer gawked at the portly little man in the bowler cap.
Mr. Dubin nodded excitedly. “You got it in one, Detective Ringer. You’re just as astute as I imagined you’d be.”
“I’ve already got a job, Mr. Dubin,” Ringer said. “I help keep the streets of this city safe from the killers, perverts, and drug pushers that are out there on them every night.”
“That’s true,” Mr. Dubin smiled, “but you could be doing so much more to make the world a better place. An ability like yours is an astonishingly rare thing, Detective Ringer, and one that I and my employer could greatly use in the war we’re fighting.”
“War?” Ringer asked.
“Forgive me,” Mr. Dubin said, “I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? As I said, I don’t exactly know where to begin. There’s so much to share with you that you need to hear.”
“I get that you claim your own power allows you to know about mine, but what you can tell me right now, Mr. Dubin, is how you know about what happened to my parents.” Ringer flicked ashes from his cigarette and took another drag. His eyes were like daggers as he stared across the desk at Dubin.
“Experience and guesswork mostly,” Dubin admitted with a wry grin. “Once I sensed your power, it wasn’t hard to find out who you were. My employer has a great many connections, and I have access to them through her. They compiled a rather thorough file on you for me, Detective Ringer. I’ve read through it several times, and the night your parents died stands out as a key moment in your life, not only in the sense of what you lost that evening. I went through the police reports and basically put two and two together. That was the night your abilities first manifested, wasn’t it?”
Memories of that night came to the forefront of Ringer’s thoughts. He shoved them aside, unable to face them. Fighting back the tears trying to form in his eyes, he forced himself to remain calm. “You need to shut up now,” Ringer warned. “We’re done talking about that night. Do I make myself clear?”
“Absolutely,” Mr. Dubin croaked, sounding afraid for the first time since he’d entered Ringer’s office. “We have a many other things to discuss, anyway. Here…”
Mr. Dubin reached inside the pocket of his jacket to produce a business card and passed it over to him. In bold silver and red letters, the card read Psi-Mechs, Inc.
“That’s the corporation I work for, Detective Ringer. I doubt you’ve heard of them but, given your line of work, you might have heard whispers of it,” Dubin told him.
“No. I haven’t.” Ringer shook his head.
“In any case, detective, we could use a man such as yourself. I promise you, you could make a much larger difference in the world with us than you are here. The starting salary for someone like you begins at one hundred fifty thousand a year, with a full benefits package, and the expenses you incur during your work are covered.” Mr. Dubin flicked a finger against the rim of the bowler cap he wore. “It’s a really good offer, all things considered.”
Ringer tried to appear unphased by the staggering amount of money he’d just been offered. Power or not, he had bills to pay like everyone else, and getting by wasn’t easy on a detective’s salary. What he was being offered was almost triple what the department was paying him. But there’s more to a job and life than money.
“And what exactly would my job be with this corporation of yours, Mr. Dubin?” Ringer asked.
“Why, battling monsters of course.” Mr. Dubin’s seemingly constant smile stretched wider. “But not on your own. We’ve a team, of sorts, that operates together. You’d become a part of it.”
Ringer put his cigarette out in the ashtray that sat on his desk and rubbed at his mouth with the fingers of his right hand. He had to admit to himself, he was really thinking over Dubin’s offer, though he still had his doubts about Dubin being on the up and up.
“Oh dear,” Mr. Dubin’s expression suddenly turned dark. “I’ve been so focused on you, I appear to have overlooked something of great import, though you did mention it.”
“What’s that?” Ringer asked.
“It seems there really is a werewolf upstairs,” Mr. Dubin told him in a voice that dripped with sincere regret.
* * *
Ringer heard the gunshots that followed in the wake of Mr. Dubin’s apology. He leaped from his chair and raced out of his office, leaving Dubin still sitting inside. What Mr. Dubin had just said was insane, but it was turning out to be a night where insanity turned into reality. Ringer skidded to a halt as he saw the monster coming down the stairs. The monster’s brown hair was slicked with patches of red. Its claws flung droplets of blood as the monster tossed aside the body of a beat cop Ringer recognized as Michael Hanson. Hanson had been with the force even longer than he had and was only a matter of weeks away from retiring with honors and a full pension. He wouldn’t be doing anything now, except rotting. The monster appeared to have torn out Hanson’s throat with its claws and was moving toward the next victim of its fury.
Two officers and the on-duty main desk cop had their weapons drawn and were pouring rounds into the werewolf, or whatever it was. Their bullets splashed blood outward as they plunged into its upper body and arms, but the monster didn’t even seem to feel them. Its yellow eyes blazed with rage and hunger as it hurled itself over the side of the stairs to the first floor. Its leap carried the beast out of the officers’ line of fire and positioned it directly in front of him. Ringer considered making a grab for the pistol holstered on his hip but knew he’d never be able to draw it in time to matter. The monster was too close, already nearly on top of him. Before Ringer even realized he was doing it, his instincts took over, and he lashed out at the monster with a blast of telekinetic energy, sending it careening away from him into the wall beneath the stairs. One of the monster’s arms was utterly shattered by the shove he’d given it, and the white of bone protruded through mangled flesh. The werewolf was as surprised as he was. He hadn’t used his power to such an extent in a very, very long time. Doing so felt good.
“Good show!” Mr. Dubin shouted excitedly from the doorway of Ringer’s office.
The three officers present didn’t share Mr. Dubin’s exuberance. They looked equally terrified and confused as they tried to figure out what had just happened. One monster was bad enough; they didn’t need two to deal with.
Already recovering, the werewolf was on its feet again. The werewolf snapped what it could of the broken bone in its arm back into place with a loud cracking noise and a grunt of pain. The beast’s yellow eyes blazed as it glared at him. Ringer knew he had to do something, or the monster would tear him limb from limb. He concentrated on focusing the physical energy from his mind into manifesting a shield and sword in his hands. They were invisible to everyone but himself, as far as he could tell, but Ringer could feel them and knew they were real. As the werewolf sprang at him, he lunged forward to meet it. A swipe of the monster’s razor-sharp claws sparked against his shield. The force of the blow nearly knocked him off balance. It took all he had to stay on his feet and keep his shield and sword from fading away into the nothing they’d been before he’d shaped them. The werewolf took another swing at him. This time, Ringer met the wrist of its lashing claw with the blade of his sword. The psycho-kinetic energy blade slashed through the werewolf’s flesh and bone easily, severing its clawed hand, and sent it bouncing along the floor of the corridor. The werewolf recoiled, shrieking, with blood spraying from the stump of its arm just above where its hand had been. Ringer pressed his attack, going in for the kill. His PKE blade opened the werewolf’s rib cage, cutting downward in an arc from the point where it made contact to the werewolf’s guts, and red-slicked strands of intestines burst from the werewolf’s ruptured body. The beast staggered backward away from Ringer. What the hell does it take to kill the thing? Ringer wondered. He could see the wounds he’d inflicted already healing. The werewolf’s ribs were knitting themselves back together before his very eyes. A clawed hand reached to tear away the loose strands of intestines dangling from its stomach so the flesh there could close properly as well. Ringer realized his mistake in not continuing to press his attack as the nearly-healed beast roared, rising to its full height in front of him. The werewolf towered over him as he gawked at the monster in disbelief. Even the hand he’d severed was beginning regrow from the stump it had been cut from.
The werewolf came at him full-on, its one good hand swiping at his face. Ringer barely managed to get his shield up in time to block the attack. The impact of the blow jarred him sideways. He careened into the wall of the corridor, his shoulder slamming hard against it. His shield flickered out of existence as pain ripped at his ability to concentrate. Gritting his teeth with a snarl of determination, Ringer held onto his sword, pouring his mental strength into keeping it solid. More in self-defense than as a counter blow, Ringer’s invisible sword slashed through the air at the fast-approaching werewolf. For all the heightened senses a monster like the werewolf was supposed to have, it apparently was as unable to detect the presence of his blade as the other officers watching the two of them battle. The werewolf moved directly into the path of his blade and paid the price for it. Ringer’s PKE sword cut the monster in half. Its top half flopped backward over the rest of its body, which continued toward him. The werewolf’s still-moving lower half crashed into him, knocking both him and it to the floor. Ringer was soaked in the werewolf’s blood as he struggled to get to his feet. The werewolf’s upper half was, however impossibly, very much alive. Dragging itself toward him with its clawed hands, it growled at him as it came.
His fellow officers might not have a clue how Ringer was fighting the beast, but they knew who the real enemy was, no matter what misgivings they had about him now. The three of them moved between him and the werewolf’s upper torso as it crawled toward him, giving him a chance to recover. Their pistols cracked and boomed in a cacophony of gunfire as they did their best to stop the monster. One of the werewolf’s eyes exploded in a shower of gore as a bullet punched into it. Several rounds smashed through the bone of the beast’s forehead to send blood and brain matter spraying from the back of its skull as they exited its body. The werewolf collapsed to lay in a growing puddle of red that spread outward. Clearly, the officers thought the beast was dead, because they lowered the smoking barrels of their pistols. It wasn’t, though. Its torso lurched upward, supported by its newly regrown hand, as its other whipped out to grab the leg of the closest officer. The officer screamed as the werewolf jerked the man from his feet. He thudded to the floor, and the werewolf yanked him to it. The werewolf dropped onto the officer so its teeth could reach his throat. The officer fought desperately to repel the beast’s attack, but the beast was supernaturally strong. It brushed aside the arms that came up to block it effortlessly and sank its teeth into the man. The officer’s body kicked and twitched as the werewolf ripped his throat out. Another officer who’d survived the beast’s rampage upstairs came running down to the first floor with a pump-action shotgun clutched in his hands. He took aim at the werewolf’s back and squeezed the shotgun’s trigger. The shotgun thundered as its blast mangled the werewolf’s flesh and splattered chunks of it across the floor. The blast knocked the werewolf forward, its snout smashing downward as it fell. Knowing better than to play dead again, the werewolf instead picked itself up on its hands and shuffled along the corridor toward the officer. The sight was enough to make anyone question their grip on reality. As it sped forward, the werewolf hurled itself through the air to land on the officer with the shotgun, who’d turned to run. The werewolf caught hold of the man by his shoulders, the weight of even just the upper half of its thickly muscled body still enough to drag him down. The officer and the werewolf toppled together, the beast managing to end up on top. Its claws shredded his flesh in a wild frenzy as it raked them over him again and again, managing to stay propped up over his chest.
“Hey!” Ringer yelled at the werewolf, drawing its attention. The werewolf ceased mauling the already dead officer and started across the floor at him. Ringer ran to meet it straight on. The blade of his PKE sword swung in an arc ahead of him to sever the werewolf’s head from its shoulders. Blood flew as the werewolf’s head left its body. Everything was over as quickly as it had begun…but it wasn’t.
The werewolf’s eyes still blazed a feral yellow as its jaws worked, trying to pull its head across the floor toward where the rest of its body lay.
At that moment, Mr. Dubin emerged fully from Ringer’s office into the corridor, marching calmly over to the werewolf’s head.
“That was impressive, most impressive indeed, but I’m afraid there’s only one means of truly ending a werewolf,” Mr. Dubin told him as he drew a tiny Derringer from beneath his jacket and aimed it at the still moving head. A flash erupted from the Derringer’s barrel as Mr. Dubin sent the werewolf back to whatever hell it had crawled out of.
Mr. Dubin tucked his Derringer away as he looked over with a beaming smile. “I do believe it’s time for us to go now, Mr. Ringer.”
Ringer took a look around and saw that the portly little man in the bowler cap was right. The blood-splashed walls of the corridor was a wretched thing to see, but the expressions directed at him by his fellow officers were worse. They stole odd glances at him even as they worked to tend to the dead. God only knew how many the beast had killed upstairs before coming down to them. Ringer didn’t want to know the number. Those he’d seen with his own eyes were enough. If he stayed, there’d be no hope of explaining how he’d fought the beast, no rationalizing to his fellow officers what they’d witnessed. Once his secret was out, as it surely was now, he knew his life here would never be the same. There was no other choice but to take Dubin up on the offer the little man had made and run while he still could.
Mr. Dubin noticed his hesitation and misread it. “If you’re worried about anyone upstairs being infected by the beast, don’t be. My power is such that I could feel it if they were.”
“Right,” Ringer said, as agreeing with Mr. Dubin was the easiest thing to do at the moment.
There was chaos all around them as the survivors from upstairs began to trickle down to the first floor. Higher-ranking officers were barking orders, while others rushed to carry them out. Ringer followed Mr. Dubin to the door leading out onto the street and through it. They stepped into the night together.
“I don’t suppose you have a car?” Mr. Dubin asked.
“I do,” Ringer answered. “It’s parked in the garage out behind the department.”
“Then I suggest we make haste and get to it,” Mr. Dubin urged. “There will be many questions if they catch up to us before we’re away. Questions it would be best to leave unanswered.”
* * *
Detective Geoff Ringer and Frank Dubin made their escape from not only the department but the city, too. With Ringer behind the wheel, they drove along the back roads outside of the neighboring small town of Canton, North Carolina. Ringer was shaken by all that had happened; Dubin seemed as collected and cool as ever.
“Where should I be taking us to?” Ringer asked, realizing the little man had never told him, and he was driving pretty much on instinct. He’d just wanted to get away from the department and the death they’d left behind them. It was beginning to sink in, too, that everything about his life had changed in the last couple of hours. Ringer would never see any of the folks he worked with again, and if even he did, it wouldn’t be the same. Mr. Dubin and the offer the little man had made were all he had left in the world other than the clothes he wore, the pistol holstered on his belt, and the pack of smokes and lighter in his pocket.
“It doesn’t matter.” Mr. Dubin shrugged. “Stop here, if you like. We need to discuss a few more things anyway, before we go home.”
Ringer did as he was told and pulled onto the side of the road. There was no other traffic. The sun was still a good hour or more from rising over the mountains. Soon, folks would be waking up to begin their day, scurrying about on their way to work, but for now…the sky was dark, and they slumbered. Ringer wished it was raining. He loved the rain.
“You need to start calling me Frank,” Mr. Dubin told him. “We’re associates now, after all. You have yet to officially sign your contract with Psi-Mechs, Inc. but I have faith that you will.”
“And you say these people you work with…they’re like us?” Ringer asked.
Frank Dubin laughed, making his portly belly jostle. “You mean do they have powers? I’ve already told you they do. Many of them, at any rate.”
“You called me a TK because I’m telekinetic?” Ringer frowned, trying to get a handle on the odd lingo Frank sometimes threw at him.
Frank nodded. “The most powerful I’ve ever seen, or for that matter, even heard of.”
“You find people? People with powers I mean?” Ringer asked.
“If you have a real question we haven’t already covered, just spit it out. If I’m at liberty to answer it, I will,” Frank said.
“I suppose I’m just curious as to what else is real, Frank.” Ringer took out a cigarette and lit up.
“That’s a very nasty habit you know?” Frank complained, rolling down the passenger side window next to him.
“I guess we all have our demons.” Ringer chuckled.
Frank waved aside second-hand smoke as he looked over at Ringer with his face twisted into a disgusted scowl. “Must you really?”
“My car,” Ringer reminded him, “my rules.”
Sighing, Frank said, “You want to know if there are telepaths, psycho-porters, psycho-changers, and healers, all their sort so often written about in pulp science fiction novels and brought to life as superheroes on the silver screen, eh? Well, Detective Ringer, there are indeed such people with those types of powers in the real world, and oh so many others, too. Psi-Mechs, Inc. has several telepaths in its employ. Our chief engineer is a tele-mechanic. Donald is our resident precog, and Mercy is our healer. You’ll meet them all very shortly.”
“You’ve said the corporation exists to fight monsters…” Ringer thought things over. “I mean, how did it all start? Who pays for it all?”
“That’s not my story to tell.” Frank looked away from him. “I will say that Psi-Mechs, Inc. is owned by a young woman named Katherine Grimm. You’ll meet her, too, once we arrive at HQ. She’s not a person you want to make an enemy of, Detective Ringer.”
“Just call me Ringer, okay? Everyone on the force used to,” Ringer told him.
Frank unclipped the cell phone that hung on his belt, flipping it open. “I need to make a call now, Ringer, in order to get us where we’re headed to.”
“Sure.” Ringer shrugged. It was impossible not to overhear what Frank was saying to the person on the other end of the call, given their proximity to each other.
“I’ve acquired the new talent, but we’ll be needing a ride,” Frank said.
“Roger that,” the voice of a young man answered, loud enough for Ringer to hear.
A fraction of a second later, the darkness in front of the parked car was ripped open. That was what it looked like. Space-time tearing apart and splitting like a piece of cloth being torn along its middle. Light spilled out of the space where the darkness should have been. The tear opened wider and wider until it was large enough for two men side-by-side to walk through. Ringer managed not to scream at the sight of it, though his knuckles turned white as he clutched the steering wheel in a death grip. He shot a concerned glance at Frank.
“That’s our ride,” Frank said and got out of the car as a man emerged from the tear in reality. Ringer followed him out, not having a clue what was about to go down and charging up his power inside his mind in case he needed to defend himself and Frank.
The man was about Ringer’s height. His hair was gray above wide, still-strong shoulders. Ringer put the man in his late forties, maybe early fifties. He wore a brown flight jacket and tattered jeans. There was a smile spread across his face as he approached them.
“So this is the new guy?” the man asked, gesturing at Ringer. “Doesn’t look like all that big of a deal to me.”
Ringer was too much in shock, still watching the swirling colors of the doorway behind him, to take insult at what the man had said.
“Easy kid.” The man laughed at him. “It’s just a doorway, nothing more. They’re kind of my thing.”
“Good to see you Eddie,” Frank greeted the man as they clasped hands. “Allow me to introduce you to Detective Geoff Ringer.”
Eddie walked over to where Ringer stood and extended a hand. Ringer accepted it.
“Eddie Tate,” the man introduced himself as he shook Ringer’s hand. “Glad to have you joining us, whether you live up to the hype about you or not. We need all the help we can get these days.”
Apparently noticing his look of confusion, Frank said, “Ah…Ringer, surely you deduced that I’m not the only one who knows about your power. I did mention the file we have on you, after all. A good many of the team are looking forward to seeing what you can do.”
“What can he do?” Eddie cocked his head toward Frank.
“I can speak for myself, for one thing,” Ringer said.
“He’s a TK,” Frank answered before Ringer could say anything else. “Together, we slayed a werewolf that’d had the unfortunate luck to turn up at the department Detective Ringer used to work for while we were there.”
Eddie’s eyes bugged. “The two of you took out a werewolf? Without any serious firepower or mech support?”
“We did,” Ringer answered.
“Wow, kid, wolves don’t go down easy,” Eddie sounded impressed and looked him over from head to toe again. “That’s some serious crap you dealt with. Ms. Grimm’s going to want to meet him straight away and get him signed up.”
Frank seemed to stand an inch or two taller from the pride he seemed to be feeling at Eddie’s remark. He’d been the one to find Ringer, and Eddie knew it.
“No sense standing around out here in the middle of nowhere, eh? Besides, I can’t keep this door open forever,” Eddie said and motioned for Ringer to step into the swirling circle behind him.
Ringer balked at the idea. “You say that thing’s a doorway? Where does it lead?”
“Our HQ, kid,” Eddie told him. “There’s nothing dangerous about it. It doesn’t rearrange your atoms or anything. It just takes you instantly from one spot to another. Think of it as sort of a fold in space-time if you want.”
“Space-time,” Ringer repeated the word aloud, his mind reeling. He’d thought his own power was impressive until he’d seen Eddie appear through what he still thought of as a hole in reality itself.
“Don’t they teach Einstein’s stuff in school anymore?” Eddie asked Frank.
“I promise it’s safe, Ringer,” Frank assured him. “Eddie is as unique as you are, and this is his power.”
“Look, I can’t go through until you two do. I have to go last so I can close it up,” Eddie said.
“I’ll go first.” Frank started toward the shimmering doorway and then disappeared through it.
“Your turn kid,” Eddie urged him.
Ringer took a deep breath, summoned up a PKE shield around his body, and stepped through the doorway.
* * *
Ringer emerged from the doorway into what appeared to be a massive hangar of some kind. Its walls were made of metal, and the place was enormous. That was all he saw before a wave of nausea so powerful it took him to his knees washed over him. His head whipped around to look back at the doorway he’d passed through just in time to see Eddie come through and the doorway blink out of existence in his wake.
Eddie looked down at him, smirking and offering him a hand to help him to his feet. “The first ride is always a rough one. On the upside, you didn’t puke your guts up. Most folks do.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Ringer quipped, but fell silent as he looked around the massive hangar. There were no planes in it, but what he did see was as surreal as everything else he’d been through in the last few hours.
The hangar appeared to be the home of over two dozen robots. They all stood motionless, like steel statues. Each of them was close to thirteen feet tall. Their armored forms gleamed beneath the huge light panels that spotted the ceiling above them. There was no question that the robots were built for combat. One had six-foot-long blades extending from its arms. Another had a tri-barreled weapon in place of a right hand. The robot closest to him had what appeared to be flamethrower nozzles mounted on the sides of its arms.
“You guys have robots, too?” Ringer asked Eddie and Frank.
Eddie shook his head, giving an almost insulted sounding snort. “Those ain’t robots, kid. Those are mechs.”
Ringer remembered the corporation’s name from the card Frank had given him—Psi-Mechs, Inc. He hadn’t even considered what the name meant until this moment. Ringer had seen enough anime in his life to know what a mech was, now that he was looking at a hangar full of real-life versions of them.
“War suits,” Ringer breathed, looking around at the over two dozen mechs again.
“That’s right! Top of the line, too!” a man shouted as he climbed down from the ladder he was on, where he’d been working on the mech with the flamethrower nozzles mounted on its arms. “And I should know, because I built them.”
The man in the blue work overalls leaped down from the ladder without touching its last few rungs, his heavy boots thudding onto the floor of the hangar. Ringer put his age at several years younger than he was. The man’s hair was a bright, golden shade of blond, and his eyes were strikingly blue and filled with a fierce intelligence.
Eddie rolled his eyes at the man’s declaration and sighed. “Kid, this is Hank Henry. He’s our tele-mechanic.”
“That means his power allows him to intuitively understand machines and, in a sense, speak with them,” Frank explained.
“Control them too,” Hank bragged.
“He’s also very modest, can’t you tell, kid?” Eddie said.
“I know this is all a lot to take in,” Frank interrupted the banter between Hank and Eddie. “I’m sure you have to be exhausted. Let me show you to your quarters. I suggest you get some rest while you can. Ms. Grimm will be wanting to meet with you as promptly as possible.”
“Good to meet you, kid,” Eddie said as another of his doorways appeared in the hangar, and he vanished through it.
“Show off,” Ringer heard Hank mutter when Eddie was gone.
Hank shot him a smile and returned to his work on the mech suit as he said, “See you around, newbie.”
Frank led Ringer out of the hangar area into a corridor. They passed several more people as they strolled through it. Ringer couldn’t help but notice the extremely attractive redhead who paused as they passed by to glance at him. He’d never seen anyone as beautiful as she was in his entire life. Her eyes were a strange amber-like color and looked at him with a powerful intensity. She was five foot six, lithe in build, and her movements were cat-like.
Ringer tried to stop to talk to her, but Frank shoved him on along.
“You need rest, son,” Frank told him. “Besides, I think you’ve had enough excitement for one morning already.”
“Just how big is this place?” Ringer asked as they turned into another side corridor.
“Roughly fifty acres,” Frank answered. “The hangar area and its accompanying specialized repair and production areas make up the bulk of that. There’s also a garage for our conventional vehicles. The rest of it’s made of an administrative center with proper offices, quarters for our people, a general mess hall, medical facilities, a training room/firing range, a briefing room, and, of course, a central command center.”
“Frag me,” Ringer stammered. “You people really are for real.”
Finally the two of them came to a hallway lined with doors that ran along both sides. Frank led him to one of them and tapped in a code on its control panel. The metal doors swished open.
“Welcome to your new home, Ringer.” Frank beamed at him. “There’s a comm on the room’s desk. Please do let me know of anything you may need.”
And with that, Frank left him to get settled in. The room was spartan. It contained a bed, a work desk with the comm Frank had mentioned and a computer atop it, a single chair, and a very old-school chest of drawers made of actual wood. The piece looked to be an expensive antique, and it was extremely out of place in the room. There was also another door inside the room that led into a small shower and toilet area. Ringer supposed he could brighten the room up later on if he decided to stay with Psi-Mechs, Inc. and accept the offer Frank had made him.
Not even bothering to take off his clothes or shoes, Ringer flopped onto the bed. It had been a long, long time since he’d used his power, and doing so earlier had taken enough of a toll on him to leave him exhausted, without even considering everything else he’d just been through.
* * *
Mercy and Jake were milling about the HQ’s Medical Center when Katherine came storming in. She marched up to the desk where Jake was going through some files and slammed a bottle of pills onto it.
“These aren’t working,” Katherine growled. “I need something stronger.”
Jake blinked and looked up at her with a trace of fear in his voice as he shook his head. “Ms. Grimm, I can’t give you anything stronger. Those sedatives are enough to literally knock out an elephant.”
The dark sunglasses Katherine wore covered her eyes entirely. They were prescription strength, and a very specialized one, too. Her brown hair spilled down to brush the tops of her shoulders as she flicked her head, trying to keep the anger raging inside her in check. Katherine Grimm was twenty-seven years old, a woman of average size and height, but she knew she could yank Jake up from the chair he was sitting in and fling him all the way across the room with no real effort. A small part of her urged her to do it, but Katherine refused to give in to that rage.
“I need to be able to sleep,” Katherine told Jake firmly. “These pills don’t work anymore. I need you to find something that does.”
Jake shrugged. “I’m a doctor, not a bloody miracle worker, Ms. Grimm. Perhaps if you changed your sleep cycle like we discussed when…”
“No,” Katherine said. “That’s not an option. You know as well as I do the complications that could cause.”
“There’s always the option of having one of the telepaths help you,” Mercy spoke up.
Katherine spun on the redhead. “Do you really think any of them are strong enough to do what you’re suggesting?”
Mercy swallowed hard and took a moment before answering. “I guess not.”
“Fragging, bloody right!” Katherine snapped.
“I’ll try to come up with something, Ms. Grimm, but it won’t be today, maybe not even tomorrow. There are no easy solutions to the problems caused by your…condition,” Jake told her.
“Considering the amount of money I’m paying you, Dr. Gallenger, I expect results…and they’d best not be too long coming.”
“I’ll give it my all,” Jake assured her.
“Frank brought the new guy in earlier this morning,” Mercy said, changing the subject. “He’s kind of hot.”
“Geoff Ringer is here?” Katherine asked. “Why wasn’t I notified?”
“I think Frank is letting him get some rest before meeting you, ma’am.” Mercy shrugged. “From what I heard, the two of them killed a werewolf last night before Eddie picked them up.”
“They killed a werewolf?” Katherine asked in disbelief.
“That’s what I heard, at any rate,” Mercy said.
Katherine huffed and turned back to Jake. “I’m not kidding about coming up with something soon, Doctor,” she warned him, then marched out of the medical center without another word.
The day was just beginning at the HQ of Psi-Mechs, Inc., and the corridor was filled with her people going about their daily tasks as Katherine headed for her office. Her pace was a brisk one. Several folks greeted her as she passed by, but Katherine didn’t reply to any of them. If they weren’t used to her demeanor by now and took offense, they didn’t need to be a part of the organization. That was how she saw things, anyway.
Entering her office, Katherine left the door open behind her. Sooner rather than later, she knew someone would show up with something for her to sign. There was usually a daily barrage of expense forms, duty rosters, and the like that required her attention. With a heavy sigh, Katherine eased into the chair behind her desk. The nightmares were getting worse with each day that went by. She couldn’t remember the last good night’s sleep she’d had. Was it weeks ago, or years? She really didn’t know for sure. The passage of time was a funny thing to her now.
Stabbing the comm on her desk to activate it, Katherine barked, “Frank! I need you to report to my office ASAP.”
The portly little man’s heavily-accented voice answered her, “On my way right now.”
Katherine glanced at the stack of intel reports and acquisition requests littering her desk. She picked an acquisition request with Hank Henry’s name on it. The tele-mechanic was clearly trying to bleed her bank accounts dry. This time, Hank was asking for fifteen million to work up a new prototype power core for his Psi-mech suits. The amount was nearly a third of the cost of adding another suit to the number they already had. Katherine was grateful to have Hank Henry leading up the tech side of things for Psi-Mechs, Inc., and the breakthrough advances he had made were amazing, but the suits worked well enough as they were. Stamping the word “denied” onto the request, she shuffled it aside. Even the vast fortune she’d inherited from her father was not without its limits. Psi-Mechs, Inc.’s operating budget alone was staggering. It was all she could do to keep up with them as it was. Psi-Mechs, Inc. was sometimes hired by various governments to deal with issues that cropped up beyond the norm and their ability to handle, but those contracts were few and far between, despite the seemingly never-ending increase of supernatural activity that had begun in the last couple of months. That was one of the reasons she’d dispatched Frank to locate and bring in Geoff Ringer. Frank truly believed the man could be a game changer. She looked up as Frank Dubin appeared in the doorway of her office.
“You called for me, Ms. Grimm?” Frank smiled at her.
“I’m told that Geoff Ringer is here,” Katherine said.
“Yes ma’am.” Frank nodded. “We arrived at HQ only a few hours ago.”
“I thought I told you I wanted to meet with him straightaway upon his arrival.” Katherine frowned. Frank was usually as dependable as they came. It was strange for him not to carry out an order he’d been given to the letter.
“He had a rough night of it, ma’am,” Frank explained. “Surely, you’ve heard about the werewolf.”
“I did, but I didn’t believe it.” Katherine motioned for Frank to come on into the office and close the door after him.
“It’s true,” Frank told her. “Geoff Ringer fought a werewolf singlehandedly and won. It was a most impressive display of raw power.”
“He killed it?” Katherine pressed the little man.
“Well, no,” Frank admitted. “I dispatched the beast with a silver bullet to its brain, but Ringer was the one who brought it down so it could be done.”
“You’re telling me he took on a werewolf in hand-to-hand combat without a Psi-mech?” Katherine asked.
“Oh yes!” Frank beamed like an overpowered light bulb. “He’s an incredibly powerful telekinetic, ma’am.”
“I understand that telekinesis is as real as any of the other abilities you and the others possess, but we’ve never come across any TK who could do more than shatter a coffee mug or move a pencil before,” Katherine commented.
“If that’s your way of asking me why Geoff Ringer is different, ma’am, I don’t have an answer for you, but trust me, he is,” Frank said. “I watched him, with my own eyes mind you, summon up the telekinetic energy he wields and channel it into solid forms. My power allowed me see the psychic energy of the sword and shield he used to battle the beast, ma’am.”
“A sword and shield?” Katherine scoffed. “Really?”
“It’s my belief his power’s instinctive at this point. The weapons were, perhaps, what came naturally to him in the heat of the battle. I believe he’s capable of much more, very much more, given proper training in how to use his ability,” Frank told her. “Why, he could actually be the first of our people able to stand toe-to-toe on equal ground with the things we face out there, without the need of a battle suit.”
“That would be a Godsend,” Katherine agreed. “If he can really do it.”
“The strength of the power in him is unlike anything I’ve felt within anyone before, Ms. Grimm. I told you that even before I left to recruit him,” Frank said. “A soldier, properly trained and directed, with his level of power, would certainly help you balance the bottom line of our expenditures.”
“Assuming we can develop his power and train him, that is.” Katherine rocked back and forth in her chair as she thought things over.
“The fight with the werewolf has cost him greatly, ma’am. He has no home to return to because of it and appears willing to join us,” Frank pointed out. “As to whether or not he can handle what we do here, well, he did just kill a werewolf, ma’am.”
“Go get him, Frank,” Katherine ordered. “I think it’s well past time I met him, don’t you?”
“Yes ma’am,” Frank replied and hurried out of her office to fetch Ringer.
* * *
Ringer had fallen asleep quickly, but he hadn’t stayed that way long. Dreams of the werewolf he’d killed jerked him awake. Its snarling face haunted him. It was too much of a reminder of…Ringer pushed the memories aside before they fully formed and got out of bed. He took a quick shower but had no other clothes to change into.
Afterward, he found himself sitting at the room’s desk. The computer there was open for him to use. It contained plenty of information on Psi-Mechs, Inc. Ringer browsed through it all, skimming over what he could. The organization had come into being only a few years ago. There were over sixty people on its payroll. What caught his attention, though, were the files on the monsters the organization had come into contact with over the years. He found files on werewolves, demons, Sasquatch, Yetis, ghosts, and just about every other type of monster one could think of from myth and legend. Heck, there was even a file on mummies. That made him laugh, until he saw the creature in the file, technically a Lich according to the data inside. The thing had been a powerful necromancer, and it had cost the organization seven lives to put an end to it. There was no mention of magic with the Lich, but there was a lot of pseudo techno-babble about psionics. Ringer had read enough about psychic powers during his life, as he’d tried to make sense of his own power, to be able to slog through the terms in the file—for the most part. Everything Frank had told him appeared to be real. Ringer didn’t have much doubt anyway after seeing Eddie the psycho-porter—that was what he was called—step out of a swirling doorway of colors onto the road in front of Frank and himself. Ringer shuddered as he remembered his own trip through the doorway Eddie had opened.
Frank hadn’t ordered him to stay in his quarters, and the door that led out into the corridor wasn’t locked, so Ringer figured a bit of exploring was in order. There was only so much one could learn from browsing through data files, and he preferred to see things with his own eyes. He’d called up a map of the HQ Frank had brought him to and studied it carefully. Ringer was pretty sure he could find his way to the general mess hall Frank had mentioned. He was starving, and a good meal would help him find his center again.
Ringer made a point to leave his pistol in his quarters. There was no point in asking for trouble with the Psi-Mechs, Inc. folks. He didn’t want to break any rules they might have in place about firearms, open carry or not. Besides, as his battle with the werewolf had very vividly reminded him, he could handle himself well enough without the gun. The bit of sleep he’d gotten had done the trick. Ringer felt recharged and ready for anything that might come at him. Part of him hoped he’d bump into the redhead he’d passed as Frank led him to his quarters. He hadn’t gotten a chance to even say hello to her, and Ringer hoped to remedy that as soon as he could. Suddenly, Ringer realized he’d already made up his mind to accept the job Psi-Mechs, Inc. was offering. There had always been a hope inside him, long buried, that there were others like himself in the world and now, he hadn’t just found another like himself but an entire group of powered individuals. There was so much he could learn from them. The future was, for once, looking bright and filled with more than just the prospect of getting another perp off the streets for the system to toss back out.
Finding the general mess was even easier than he’d thought it would be. As he stepped into it, the mess was mostly empty. There were only a few folks scattered about, eating and talking at the tables that filled the large room. All of them gave him a quick glance as he entered, then went back to their own business. Ringer didn’t see the redhead anywhere. Frank, Eddie, and Hank weren’t present, either.
“I’d stop looking for Mercy if I were you,” a voice from behind him said.
Ringer spun around to come face to face with a sandy-haired young woman dressed in the same blue uniform all the people he’d seen at the HQ, other than Hank, wore. She wasn’t the stunning beauty the redhead he’d glimpsed was, but she was cute.
“Cute, huh?” She laughed, before he could even respond to her first words to him or ask why she thought he needed mercy. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment, but stop thinking so loud okay? It’s not cool.”
“What?” Ringer blurted out, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red. “I didn’t…”
The young woman tapped the side of her head with her index finger. “You thought it, and too loudly for me to block out, as close as we are.”
Ringer flinched as he saw he was so close to her their bodies were almost touching and retreated several steps in a hurry.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, turning even redder.
“It’s okay.” The young woman grinned at him. “I’m Abigail Crane, but most folks just call me Abby. And you’re the new guy, aren’t you? Ringer, right?”
“I guess I am.” Ringer nodded.
“I should apologize too,” Abby said. “I make a significant effort not to violate other people’s thoughts, but like I said, yours are just screaming. They broke through my shield like it wasn’t even there.”
Ringer stared at her, not knowing what to say.
“We all have shields. Even people without powers have them, to some degree,” Abby told him. “But from how you’re gawking like a clueless idiot with your mouth hanging open, I’m going to venture a guess that you don’t know squat about telepathy.”
“You’re a telepath?” Ringer asked in astonishment.
“I am.” Abby smiled. “Clearly you’re hungry, or you wouldn’t be here. Why don’t we get some food, and we can talk while we eat?”
“Sounds like a pretty good plan to me,” Ringer said.
Ringer and Abby helped themselves to heaping plates of eggs, gravy, and biscuits, then took a seat across from each other at one of the large room’s tables. Ringer had mixed feelings about Abby. On one hand, she seemed the sort of laid-back person he normally got along with, but the fact that she could read his thoughts creeped him out. He supposed getting used to other people with powers would take some time to adjust to.
“So you were telling me about mental shields,” Ringer prompted her.
Abby looked across the table at him with a smile. “Yeah, they’re something you’re definitely going to need to work on. I’m not the only telepath around here.”
“How does all this stuff work, anyway?” Ringer asked. “I mean, Psi-Mechs, Inc. Do we get training or something?”
“It’s all done on a case-by-case basis,” Abby shrugged. “It really depends on what you’ll be doing here and what Ms. Grimm expects of you.”
“I keep hearing about this Ms. Grimm,” Ringer grunted. “I’m supposed to be meeting with her soon, I think, to work out my contract.”
“Yep,” Abby assured him. “That’s how it works. Don’t let Frank scare you, okay? She’s really not that bad, once you get to know her.”
“Now that makes me even more worried about meeting her,” Ringer quipped.
“Oh, I don’t mean…” Abby started.
“It’s okay Abby,” Ringer said, seeing that he’d put her in an uncomfortable position. “I get what you’re trying to say.”
Ringer shoveled a spoonful of gravy-soaked eggs into his mouth. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he had food in front of him. He tore into it like he hadn’t eaten in days. Ringer cleaned his plate in a matter of moments.
“Wow,” Abby commented. “I guess you really were hungry.”
“I guess so,” Ringer agreed. “Using my power can take a lot out of me sometimes.”
“About that,” Abby leaned forward in her seat. “I hear you’re the most powerful TK in like…well…ever.”
Ringer shrugged. “I don’t know about that, but I am a telekinetic.”
“That’s pretty wild!” Abby giggled. “You like, bend spoons and stuff? I mean with your mind.”
It was Ringer’s turn to laugh. “I’ve never bent a spoon with my powers. Is that a thing?”
Abby laughed even louder. “I think I saw a TK do it in a movie once or something. I figured it was how they tested how strong you are.”
Ringer shook his head. “I can do a lot more than bend a spoon.”
“Show me,” Abby begged him with excitement in her voice.
“Show you? What? Here?” Ringer stammered.
“Why not?” Abby challenged him like two kids daring each other to do something they perhaps shouldn’t.
“What do you want me to do?” Ringer asked.
“Can you pick me up?” Abby grinned. “Or is that too much weight for you to handle?”
“It’s not too much weight,” Ringer said hesitantly.
“I’ve never met a TK who could do it,” Abby told him.
“Fine,” Ringer reluctantly agreed. “Stand up though, okay?”
Abby got up from her seat. Ringer reached out with his mind and enveloped her with PKE. Abby cackled like a maniac as her feet left the floor of the mess. The few other folks in the large room were turning to stare and gawk at them now as Abby rose several feet into the air. She was laughing wildly and spread her arms out as if she were a superhero flying over the streets of a city.
Ringer lowered her back to the floor carefully and let go of her body.
“That was crazy!” Abby jumped up and down. “Do it again!”
Shaking his head, Ringer frowned. “I think that’s enough for right now.”
The others in the mess had gotten up from their seats and were approaching the two of them. Ringer didn’t like crowds, even small ones, and hated being the center of attention even more.
Ringer was saved from the situation he’d gotten himself into by Frank’s appearance in the doorway of the mess.
“Ms. Grimm is waiting for you,” Frank called to him. “I’ll take you to her.”
Getting up, Ringer moved through the small crowd that had gathered around himself and Abby, doing so as politely as he could, and made his way toward Frank.
“Come on folks. Let the man through,” Frank shouted.
“Hey, Ringer,” Abby said as he passed her, “good luck with Ms. Grimm.”
“Thanks,” he muttered, looking back as he joined Frank at the door leading out of the mess.
* * * * *