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Super-Mod III (Part 5)
By CastorTroy
Sunlight shined into a frozen building and reflected off the smooth surfaces. Inside and out, this building was completely turned to ice, including the furniture. For all intents and purposes, it was a building created completely out of ice.
Snowman and Blizzard were sleeping on an ice couch, heads at opposite ends of the furniture. Frostbite and Chill satin frozen chairs at a frozen table, awake.
“You know what mission this one reminds me of?” Frostbite asked.
Chill chuckled, “The Sword of JPDatabase. Which turned out to not even exist, but at least we got to have a lot of fun.”
Frostbite snorted. “Yeah, that’s the one. Traveled all the way around the Net, ended up on some small-ass Site. Followed Mr. Camel’s directions perfectly, but there was no sword. Turned out we were just following a bunch of nutcases that probably all believed they had been abducted by aliens at some point in their life. Never did find out why Mr. Camel was deathly afraid they’d get the sword before him.”
“Hopefully this Eye of SGD thing won’t be like that.”
“It’s not,” Frostbite said matter-of-factly.
“How can you be sure?” Chill asked. “Our track record with obtaining mythical artifacts have so far been pretty shitty.”
Frostbite stared at Chill longingly. “Because this time we aren’t together.”
Chill looked away from Frostbite sadly and at the floor. “Frostbite…Dac…You know how I feel. That hasn’t changed. I’m not ready yet.”
“Because of that fucking guy on UFX?” Frostbite asked angrily. “Come on, DangerGurl! He’s not anything like any of us. You could never ever touch him, much less kiss him, without killing him.”
Chill looked back up at Frostbite, just as angry. “I know that! But it doesn’t change the fact that I love him.”
“Yeah, you want to talk about Love? How about next time you’re talking to him, you tell him what you really do and who you really are. Then we’ll see how much he loves you after you list the bodycount you’ve racked up.”
Chill looked away again, sadness filling her eyes to the brim. A tear rolled down her cheek and froze part-way down. “This is the last time, Dac. After this, I’m done. I’m leaving Winterstorm and going to UFX to be with Goldrex. I’m going to tell him everything, and we’re going to find a way to work around this…this problem of mine.”
Frostbite scoffed. “We’ll see.”
“I just want to get this mission done and over with,” Chill sighed. “Any idea on a plan yet?”
Frostbite was silent for a minute, but then held up a half-frozen flyer advertising a ‘Save the Rainforest Gala’ that was on that night.
“I don’t understand…”
“Everyone will be attending this thing,” Frostbite explained. “Which means nobody but the bare minimum at the bank. I say we do this thing tonight, but on the way to the bank, we stop off at this Gala and make sure nobody there will ever get in our way – or anyone’s way – ever.”
Chill nodded, and forced a smile, despite her silent disagreeing with her former lover’s psychotic plan.
***
Dark Element still sat at the table in his apartment room, but now all his cuts had been taken care of. He reached over and grabbed a digital alarm clock, looking at the time. He laid it back down and carefully loaded one of his guns, screwing a silencer onto it. He tied a knife sheath around his waist, slipping a rather large dagger into it.
Standing up, Dark Element went out into the hall. There were two members of the Order there, leaning up against a wall, talking. Without warning, Dark Element raised his gun and shot both of them without them even realizing he was there. Blood splattered the wall with both silent shots.
He heard the stairs of the staircase creaking and quickly hid behind the corner, going into one of the rooms. Just as someone walked by, Dark Element jumped out behind them, grabbed them, and slit their throat open with the dagger. Dark blood sprayed out from the neck in a gushing waterfall, and the thump of the falling body attracted the attention of someone else, who peaked out of their room just to have Dark Element throw the dagger at him, embedding into his forehead and killing him. Dark Element walked over and peaked into the same room, seeing a trio of naked girls on the bed, gasping and screaming. Dark Element shot all three of them, filling the sheets with blood.
A bullet slammed into the doorframe by his head and Dark Element ducked as he turned, firing, sending another person flying back with a scream, body riddled with bullets.
Vito Hardy ran out into the hall to investigate, and Dark Element shot at him, but missed due to Vito Hardy instantly ducking back into his room, which was filled with various artifacts and weapons from various time periods. One such weapon was a double-edged battle axe inside a case of glass. Sweating profusely, Vito Hardy ran over and opened the case, and pulled the axe out. He ran back over next to the door, slamming his back straight up against the wall as far as he could get.
As he waited, breathing getting heavier and heavier, he heard the screams of others being killed. After a couple minutes of that, a shadow appeared in the doorway and Vito Hardy held his breath, tightening his grip on the axe.
When the shadow got larger, Vito Hardy jumped out with the axe, screaming, only to have it shot out of his hands with a single shot by Dark Element.
“Dark Element stop! I have your money!” Malcolm’s voice carried down the hall.
Dark Element, gun pointed directly at Vito Hardy, finger squeezing on the trigger, suddenly lowered the gun and turned to look down the body-filled and blood-sprayed hall. Malcolm walked up to him, stepping over a dead body and only glancing at it for a second, as if it was nothing more then a log in his way. He handed Dark Element a thick wad of money.
“Sorry about the mess,” Dark Element said as he accepted the money and counted it.
Malcolm laughed nervously. “Oh, no problem! We had a deal, and I didn’t meet that deal on time. Completely understandable!”
Dark Element walked over to one of the bodies and retrieved his dagger. He used another body’s shirt to wipe the blood off of it and then put it back in its sheath again. “Any idea about finding Super-Mod?” he asked.
Malcolm replied, “There’s this huge thing going on tonight, a Gala. Just about everyone on the Site is expected to attend. I’m willing to bet that Super-Mod will show up, if only for a couple minutes, to make sure everything goes smoothly. You stake that place out, and you’re sure to see him at some point.”
Dark Element nodded and turned, walking back into his room. Malcolm turned to Vito Hardy, letting out a huge sigh of relief. “Well that certainly was cutting it a bit close, don’t you think?”
Vito Hardy stared at Malcolm, dumbfounded. He finally managed to find his voice. “A bit close!? We lost half of our members!”
Malcolm shrugged. “We can recruit more. Nothing we haven’t done before. After that giant Gang War there was only a couple of us left but we managed to re-build.” (Note to the reader: This too, well be further explained in Super-Mod: The Series)
Vito Hardy straightened his glasses, recomposing himself. “Where did you come up with the money?”
“I took a loan out from the bank.” Vito Hardy was once again, dumbfounded. Malcolm picked up on that and added, “Just because I’m a criminal doesn’t mean I have to do everything illegally.” He then looked up and down in the hall. “I wonder who I can talk into cleaning this mess up.”
Malcolm looked back up at Vito Hardy, who slowly started to back away around the corner.
***
JPJunkee and Carnotaur3 had arrived at the Convenience store crime scene a few minutes earlier, which was in part of the Site that hadn’t really been hit too bad with the snow and ice. There was a little bit, but not nearly enough as most other places, and the ground was clearly visible in most areas, with only a very thin layer of snow. There were Mods all over the area, searching the parking lot, rubble, and even inside the store.
One of the Mods approached JPJunkee. “Sir?” JPJunkee, who had been digging through the rubble of one of the destroyed cars, looked up. “These are sort of unusual.”
JPJunkee looked at the Mod, confused. “What are unusual?”
The Mod pointed at the ground and JPJunkee looked down. He was standing in the middle of one of the craters. He bent down and ran his hand along the smooth melted ground. “Carnotaur3!”
Carnotaur3, who had been inside the store, came running out and saw JPJunkee bent down in one of the craters. “Holy shit.”
“There’s a few more, scattered around this area,” The Mod explained.
JPJunkee stood up and faced Carnotaur3. “As far as I know, Super-Mod doesn’t have any kind of weaponry like this. At least I’ve never seen any signs of it before.”
“Not to start defending him or anything,” Carnotaur3 said, “But I was talking to Nik in there – she was the first officer on the scene this morning – and she said that she had received numerous reports of Super-Mod having been spotted last night transporting an unconscious man, who seemed to be dressed in a much cheaper version of Super-Mod’s clothes, and was headed in this direction. So I guess my question is, why would Super-Mod knock someone unconscious and deliver him to us, just to kill both him and our men? Doesn’t make any sense.”
JPJunkee walked over to the side of the parking lot, Carnotaur3 following behind him. There were a few other Mods digging through the snow in that area, searching. “I found these.” JPJunkee pointed to an area in the snow that had been dug out, revealing bullets. “Adam!”
A few seconds later, another Mod jogged over. “Yes, sir?”
“Have any other shells been uncovered yet?”
“Yes sir, right over there.” Adam pointed in the opposite direction and went back to what he was doing. JPJunkee and Carnotaur3 went over to the area, where much longer larger bullets had been dug out.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say these were from a sniper gun,” Carnotaur3 stated.
“They are,” JPJunkee confirmed. “And the ones over there…” he pointed in the exact opposite direction, “…are from a 9MM, which is Super-Mod’s gun of choice. Seems to me that there was a Sniper, and when Super-Mod got here to deliver his criminal, he fought it out with the sniper.”
“What about the craters? And the destroyed cars? What caused them?”
JPJunkee looked around before looking back at his partner. “Not sure yet. Could be there was a third party with yet a different gun, or possibly one of the other two – I’m willing to bet on the sniper – had a second type of weapon and used it. Maybe some kind of prototype.”
“Like the kind that Hunter2.0 sold,” Carnotaur3 slipped a piece of the puzzle in.
“I’m willing to stake my life on the fact that who that sniper is, if we find him, we find the guy who murdered Hunter2.0, and all these people.”
“Kinda makes ya wish we heard Super-Mod out earlier, huh?”
JPJunkee glared at Carnotaur3. “I thought you didn’t like him?”
“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean he’s guilty.”
***
Super-Mod and Shiva zoomed down the empty abandoned area of the Site nicknamed Flooder Haven, which was another section of the Site that was virtually untouched by winter.
Super-Mod slowed his motorcycle down to a stop on the side of the road, just outside one of the many condemned, graffiti-covered, boarded-off buildings.
“Why are we here?” Shiva asked wit disgust as she looked around at the neighborhood. She climbed off the motorcycle, removing her helmet. Super-Mod did the same and they laid the helmets on the seat.
“There’s someone here I saved once and she’s helped me out whenever I’ve needed it, in return.” (Note to the Reader: This too well be explained more in the episodic series.) Super-Mod detached a small part of the dashboard area, a part no bigger then an old-style Gameboy, and with only three buttons on it. He pushed one and there was a slight glimmer reflected in the metal around the bike for a second, but then all seemed normal again.
“Why does she live here?” Shiva continued with her disgust.
“She’s homeless. Left in the streets as a baby and raised by the homeless,” Super-Mod informed Shiva. “This may not be the best place for her, but its home to her. Come on.” Super-Mod, followed closely by Shiva, walked across the sidewalk and towards the door. He knocked twice, paused, then knocked three more times before opening the door and stepping inside.
There was hardly anything inside here beyond people. There were two sofa’s, ripped and shredded with stuffing hanging out, and dust covered everything. Windows were shattered and had been boarded up. The people in the room were wearing loose ripped clothing, or nothing at all in some cases. The overall morale seemed extremely low. They eyed the two newcomers and whispered among themselves.
“This is everyone in the Web Hosting Clan,” Super-Mod continued his explanation. “Even though they’re all homeless, they have still found a way to retain some semblance of a family/clan unit.”
“Isn’t this area filled with savages though?” Shiva questioned.
“Yes, but this Clan is one of the few peaceful ones. Even the dangerous Clans leave them alone. Mostly though cause they have nothing of value.” Super-Mod glanced through the crowd and shouted, “CaffineJunkie!”
Super-Mod and Shiva scanned the crowd in the room, until they heard from behind them, “Supes!”
They turned around and CaffineJunkie smiled at them and tightly hugged Super-Mod. Super-Mod returned the hug and they broke away. “Always nice to have you around,” she said to him. “Come on, let’s go into the kitchen.” CaffineJunkie led them into the kitchen, which was in the exact same state as the previous room, with broken tiles littering the floor and empty counters. “Who’s the broad?”
Shiva gasped. “Excuse me?”
“She’s a friend of mine,” Nightshade replied.
CaffineJunkie eyed Shiva up and down. “You tappin’ that?”
Shiva made a move towards CaffineJunkie, but Super-Mod stopped her but laying a hand on her shoulder. “I‘m actually here to get some information.”
“Well try me and I’ll tell ya whatever ya wanna know,” CaffineJunkie replied.
***
Back outside the building, a teenager named Banning, who sported a tall Mohawk and had chain wrapped around the knuckles on one hand, approached Super-Mod’s motorcycle. He looked around, seeing if anyone was around. Confident that there wasn’t, he stepped towards it and placed his hand on the handlebars as he went to climb on it.
Banning didn’t actually make it onto the bike though, for as soon as he touched the handlebars, electricity surged through his body. After several seconds of being electrocuted, he managed to pry his hands off and stumble backwards. He turned and ran off.
***
Super-Mod, Shiva, and CaffineJunkie continued to stand around in the kitchen. Super-Mod began, “Last night some guy tried to sniper me. He shot up an entire parking lot of Mods and civilian Members, and he had some kind of high-tech weapon, it fired balls of energy or something.”
CaffineJunkie nodded. “Dark Element.”
“You know him?” Super-Mod was surprised that CaffineJunkie had been able to pinpoint the perp right down to his name so quickly, based off the little info Super-Mod had.
“No,” CaffineJunkie answered. “But word on the street is that he’s a mercenary. One of the best too. He’s been trained in everything. Standard military, Secret Service, Black Ops. You name it, he has training in it. His codename is Dark Element. He is one pesky fly to have on your back.”
“Any weaknesses?”
“Well he’s just flesh and blood like you and me, no extra modifications of any kind, so he can be killed just like anyone. Just takes skill.” She smiled seductively. “Which I know you have.”
Shiva turned her gaze from CaffineJunkie to Super-Mod, a scowl on her face. “What does she mean by that?”
Super-Mod looked at Shiva, then turned back to CaffineJunkie, choosing to not answer. “Any idea on a location?”
“The Order. They’re the ones that hired him.”
Super-Mod growled under his breath. “Malcolm…”
CaffineJunkie added on, “But nobody knows where their hideout is. They keep it a secret.”
Super-Mod nodded. “And there’s this group of people called the Winterstorm Gang. They have these powers – they’re the ones that made it winter here. Any info on them?”
“People did that?” CaffineJunkie asked, surprised. “Wow, everyone around here has been thinking that it was just a freak phenomenon. There hasn’t been one single word on any new gang. So no, sorry, no info on them at all.”
“Alright, thanks. Take care.” Super-Mod and Shiva made a move to leave.
“Woah! Wait!” Super-Mod turned back to CaffineJunkee when she called out. “Leaving already? Not gonna stay for a chat?”
“Sorry,” Super-Mod said. “Maybe another time. I’ve got work to do.”
CaffineJunkie put her hands on her hips. “Just a Wham Bam, thank-you, mam? You do seem to be good at those.”
Shiva glanced back up at Super-Mod again, but before she could say anything, Super-Mod said to CaffineJunkee, “I’ll stay in touch.”
Super-Mod and Shiva walked back to the door and exited the building out into the bright sunlight.
“If I didn’t know any better,” Shiva said without a smile. “I’d think something happened between you two. Care to explain what that was all about in there?”
“No.” Super-Mod removed the device and pushed the button again. He re-attached it to it’s spot on his motorcycle’s dashboard.
“You’re what? 21? She’s only 17, Aragorn!”
“Nothing happened!” Super-Mod shouted. Then added more softly, “She just likes playing around like that.”
“You seem to know a lot about her playing around,” Shiva snapped.
“Shut up. I think you’ve been hanging around Seth Rex too much.”
***
JPJunkee and Carnotaur3 entered the Mod Precinct, shaking snow off themselves. Ostromite ran up to them. “Chief, you’ll never believe this. We have a member of the Order here.”
“What? Are you serious?” JPJunkee had a hard time believing it. The Order had been one gang they’ve been after for years, but seemed to never catch a break on.
“He turned himself in. Said he wanted protective custody.”
“What for?”
“Seems they hired a mercenary to take out Super-Mod…”
“The sniper,” JPJunkee whispered to himself.
Ostromite continued on, “But their leader, a Malcolm, failed to make good on the payment and this mercenary made the payment with their spilt blood. He went around and killed them. Malcolm apparently got him under control for now, but this man, a Compy01, feels safer in our custody.”
“I want to talk to him,” JPJunkee said. “If he agrees to give us all the info we need on the Order, he’ll get his wish.” JPJunkee could hardly contain his excitement on such a break.
“Sir, that’s not all,” Ostromite said gravely. “He said that the mercenary is planning on hitting up the Gala tonight. He thinks Super-Mod is going to show up there.”
JPJunkee nodded. “Show me to him.”
***
Hours later, Seth sat in the computer chair of the Rec Room in the underground base, but was not facing the computer. Aragorn was lifting weights while Shiva spotted for him.
“So what are you going to do now?” Seth probed.
“Not a clue,” Aragorn answered honestly. “We’ve reached a dead end.”
“Not necessarily,” Shiva piped up.
Aragorn lifted the bar up and with Shiva’s help, placed it on the holdings for it. He sat up and wiped sweat off his face with a towel. “Elaborate.”
“Ok, so the search for Dark Element is at a temporary dead end, yeah, but you’re forgetting that I’m a member of the Winterstorm Gang. I know how they think.”
“So care to share with the rest of us what they’re thinking,” Seth asked, “Or are ya just gonna keep it inside that pretty head of yours?”
Shiva mock-smiled at him. “They’re gonna hit the bank tonight.”
“How can you be so…”
“Shhh, let her talk,” Aragorn shushed Seth Rex up. Seth pouted and silenly mocked Aragorn as Shiva continued on.
“That Gala thing that’s on tonight, most people will be there, which means minimum security at the bank. We have a bigger problem though. Frostbite, he gets his jollies by causing havoc, as you can see by the state of the Site today. He’s gonna hit the Gala for sure, and chances are before he hits the Bank.
“Once he does the job, he’s either going to get his ass off the Site, complete the transaction, and proceed to kill my family, or devout every waking moment to hunting me down for betraying them. Either way, he’s not going to waste his time by going out of his way to cause playful havoc again.”
Aragorn stood up, laying the towel on the bench. “Well then, I’d say it’s settled.”
“What’s your plan?” Seth looked up at Aragorn.
“Shiva and I go and watch over the party. When Winterstorm shows, we’ll be ready for them.”
“So what? You two just going to sit alone together on your bike in the dark for hours on end?” Seth asked, and then smiled, “I wonder what you’ll do to pass away the time…”
“No, that’s not the plan.”
“Of course not, I’m not CaffineJunkie,” Shiva snapped.
Aragorn turned on her sharply. “ What is your problem?”
“Nothing.”
Seth looked back and forth between the two of them, feeling uncomfortable. “Ummm…,” he paused for a few seconds, not sure if he wanted to interrupted the deathly staring contest. “So what is your plan then?”
Aragorn turned back to Seth, secretly glad for the interruption. “We blend. Shiva and I attend the party.”
“Um, incase you’ve forgotten,” Seth reminded his friend, “There’s a reason you haven’t had a social life. Aragorn Randle is supposed to be dead.”
“It’s been almost five years, Seth. Most everyone who knew me I imagine has moved away from this Site, onto bigger and better things. Plus…” Aragorn reached over onto the ice hockey table and lifted up a pair of glasses. “I’ll just wear these.”
“Oh my God…” Seth could not believe the stupidity that was filling Aragorn’s head. “Are you a complete moron!?”
Aragorn shrugged. “Works for Clark Kent, and he’s around people all day.”
Seth’s head fell into his hands. “This is the worst idea ever.”
Deciding to ignore Seth, Aragorn turned back to Shiva. “Come on, Shiva. We need to buy you a dress before the party.”
Seth looked back up. “Wait, I have something for her. I made it today while you guys were gone out.”
“Is this that secret project you’ve been working on?” Aragorn asked, curious.
“No, this is something extra I did today.”
8/11/2006 10:49:41 PM
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