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Chapter -14- Dark Revelation

Saturday, February 3, 2024 - 12:15 pm AST Lower North Atlantic Ocean

** "Hey, come here Jules."** Reno waved the retired Naval pilot over to the crater, knee deep in clear blue water.

Jules climbed over several downed palm tree trunks then rolled up his pants and joined Reno in the water. "Just like the other six spots, mon ami. I hope the four Fox and Evan found yesterday have no missing brothers."

"Those were the biggest damn bombs I've ever seen, man. You ever seen ordinance that big in your eight years of service?"

"Non. I've seen smaller nuclear bomb casings designed to be dropped from planes, Inspector."

"But the ones that caused these craters obviously weren't nuclear, Lieutenant Commander. How much you think those things weighed?"

"Enough that the only way to move them without proper equipment would be to put Collobulous on one side 'n Karla on the other. You'd need two people to lift it evenly; else the handles'd rip right off, m'ami. I dunno how those guys from the ship managed to move'em without a Chinook. This island isn't exactly easy terrain, considering how soft sand is."

"Yeah," Reno mused. "I didn't see tank tracks, either. And I didn't see a chopper up on the flight deck of that old-ass ship. What if they floated one out to an end, detonated it and flooded the area, then floated in the next, and did them in succession?"

"Reno..." Jules offered a dull stare.

"Yeah that's dumb. Sorry. I'm thinking aloud, because I don't have my dry-erase board. That's how I do most of my thinking."

"Then let's go over the facts, m'ami. I'll be your erase board. What do we know so far?"

"Okay, let's see." Reno held his right hand up, and ticked off his index finger. "There were four undetonated bombs we've found on the island ."

"Oui, so that means the bombs were placed in advance."

"Yeah. Their timers were waiting input commands. So the operation must have been disturbed and only some were detonated." Reno ticked off another finger.

"It's a good thing Fox could figure out how to disarm them."

Nevada nodded and rubbed his chin. "Yeah. The boy's good with computers - gotta give him that. Okay, so they turned the island into an atoll and left four of those damn things right there in the sand at the far end."

"Trois. Now we got a huge horseshoe and the hotel is gone."

Reno folded his arms, pacing in the water. "Then they managed to break their ship on the beach. You wanna postulate a theory, flyboy?"

"Oui, but your guess is as good as my own, n'est-ce pas?" Jules folded his hands and gazed out over the gorgeous blue heart at the center of what used to be a supply island. A piece of wood floated nearby. He picked it up and examined it. "Well, I reckon it went like this, Inspector. See this-here pressure-treated wood? That's what's left of one of the many storage warehouses 'n cabins that used to be here. With bombs as big as those, I assume they restored a scuttled carrier, sealed the seacocks, pumped out the water 'n used it to transport the immense weight of these bombs - presumably eleven thusfar - and they intended to submerge the island. No evidence. I dun' think it's possible to _sink _an island, Inspector. So they wanted to blast the top layers into smithereens so it'd be little more than a sandbar. Seems they never finished, hmm?"

Reno picked up where Jules left off, rubbing his chin in thought. "The biggest mystery here is that this island looks like it was stomped on by a big storm, but there hasn't been a cloud in the sky since I arrived in Florida a few days ago."

"Mm, it is quite the mystery. But I agree with your theory. Palm trees were bent over, with leaves scattered. Some had split trunks. You could tell there was a hell of a wind that did this to'em. Thing is, who knows how long ago it happened."

Reno turned and walked back the other way, splashing back towards the beach. "Yeah I don't know. I guess. The palm leaves are still green, so the storm was recent."

"I hate to come up with a weird theory like this, Reno, but what if there was a storm. But, here me out, now - the storm never went beyond this island. Or it traveled northeast, and stayed east of Cuba. Then there would have been no storms to hit the populated areas?"

"Maybe. It would explain how the carrier wound up on the beach, but it wouldn't explain why the job wasn't finished afterwards."

"Reno..."

Nevada held both hands up. "No, you're right. Don't even say it."

Jules grinned. "Say what?"

"Of course they didn't finish blowing up the island. They don't have a way to leave. The carrier broke it's back. It's beached."

"We're dealing with idiots," said Evan as he came over a tall dune leading down to the lagoon. "If they finished blowing up the island, they wouldn't have been marooned on it. I found an abandoned radio and a command tent further inland. The radio and the gear is filled with water. But it's not saltwater. You guys find anything?"

Fox came over the dune behind Evan. "Hey gang. Evan and I have found a lot of evidence that these guys were blown up onto this beachy atoll. I'd like to get closer to the ship to look at the beach around it. Obviously they didn't have the speed to drive up onto the sand. No way to know without diving gear, time to explore."

"You're really curious, huh?" asked Reno.

Fox laughed. "No. Seriously guys, who cares how it happened? What's done is done. I think we should take down those guys. It's obvious that we can't keep hiding from them. They haven't made any attempt to leave, it's only a matter of time before they spot us. And the carrier looks to be fairly well armed with modern gear. We don't want them shooting at Karla's yacht."

Reno turned to Jules and shrugged. "The kids want to go and 'beat up bad guys.' You're military. You were an officer. You learned about tactics in the academy, right? What's your stand?"

"Not to sound whipped, mon ami, but I'd prefer to ask Sinopa to 'Call the Kyuubi' as she puts it. We have no way to hold a few dozen men hostage or feed'em. We cannot leave'em to starve just cause Falcon is - that débile piece of crap. Conversely, if we rescue'em and take'm back to the mainland, they'll report in. As Reno would say, c'est des conneries, if y' ask me."

Evan folded his arms glad he couldn't understand the cussing. "Okay. Time to take a play out of the hero's codebooks, guys. We launch an assault. The aim is to capture but we cannot let ourselves get killed, either. So we fight and put the survivors into the brig on that ship. When, uh ... when we find the brig, that is. Heck, I'll make glass prisons on the flight deck. Anyway. Once we've got them all, we'll ask them to talk. People who cooperate get a ticket back to the mainland. They get officially released to that CIA guy when it's appropriate, so that no one can warn Falcon that we're coming."

Fox looked back at Jules and Reno. "Well, guys?"

Jules shrugged. "Battle rules with Geneva Convention conduct. Sounds fair."

"You! The four of you!"

Jules brought his palm to his forehead. "Oh, merde," he groaned.

Reno looked up to the far left end of the beach dune and groaned. "We have two options. We can let them pretend to take us to their leader. Or we can clobber that guy before he tells his buddies."

The man up on the dune pulled up a radio and shouted into it then un-shouldered his rifle and shot two rounds into the air. Everyone looked back at Reno and folded their arms in near-unison. Nevada shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Okay, so he told his buddies already. He's fast. So sue me. If I used a bolt of lightning, it would be as bad as setting off a flare for his pals to see. What's the plan? Do we beat his ass, Evan, or do we pretend to surrender and play it by ear from there?"

Five more men came up over the large sand dune, with their rifles pointed at the four in the lagoon. Fox shook his head. "If they shoot first, Evan, you can turn it to sand right? We'll put the ball into their court. If they try anything, we'll stomp them all down and counter-attack. If they're willing to take us back to that rust bucket then we should play along."

"Everyone get close together," Evan told the group. "I can create an aura that will turn any high velocity object to glass, then into sand. But it's not a very large aura. Stay close."

Reno nudged Fox and Evan. "Guys, I know you're getting used to being at gunpoint. But, guys, seriously - you two are acting _too _confident with having guns pointed at you. They're going to get the wrong impression boys. You gotta make them feel like they're in control; isn't that right, old-and-wise Lieutenant Commander Guillot?"

Fox and Evan looked at one another, back at Reno and Jules, who had their hands up, then blinked and quickly put their own up. "Right, sorry," Evan whispered.

Jules elbowed Reno. "Old 'n wise, huh? Jus' cause I'm the oldest here? Jus' remember this, Inspector ... I'll always be one level higher than you in life."

"Was that a Dragonball-Z reference, Vegeta? Why don't you go blond and crush them all, huh?"

Evan blinked then opened his eyes wide and turned back to Reno. "Really? Seriously? You don't know video game references, but you know Dragonball?"

"Turn around, Krillin before you have to fake your own death."

Jules coughed into his left hand, keeping both his arms somewhat elevated. "Didn't he die, like, eleven times?"

"Five by my count," Reno whispered, watching the men up on the dune.

"Non, but," Jules paused then said, "Tres times in the alternative time line that Cell came from, 'n tres more times in the other alternative timelines with Tambourine, Frieza and th' Androids. Reckon he's got more lives than a cat."

Fox sighed and rolled his eyes. "Okay, I never watched Japanese cartoons from the 1990's. I wasn't alive yet. I never got into that stuff, guys. I have no clue what any of you are talking about. Evan, dude, please don't die eleven times. Or five times. Or any times. None of us have a Phoenix Down handy and you're our bullet shield."

Evan brought both his hands over his mouth to conceal his laughter. "A Phoenix Down? That's hysterical!"

Reno shook his head. "Must be a video game thing, cause that wasn't in Dragonball."

"Shut up, you four! Interlock your fingers behind your heads and kneel and prepare to be cuffed! If you resist, you'll _all_be shot!" The closest gunman began a slow approach.

"Incidentally," Reno whispered to Jules, "Where'd you hide the plane? It just occurred I never asked."

Jules chuckled and replied softly from the corner of his mouth. "I told one of the crew to take it back to Miami. Better safe and untraceable than sorry 'n out of gas, mon ami."

Reno cleared his throat and said, "Everyone, down." He also lowered to his knees then called back to the closing gunner.

"What the hell are you four doing here?" said the gunman, wading out into the water.

Nevada shook his head. "Slow down, you won't need that gun, mister. We saw the island in this area. Our plane had engine trouble and we had to parachute. We touched down here. We're all accounted for, our pilot and three passengers. We saw the guns on the big boat you guys have beached, and saw one of you guys with weapons so ... we were just minding our own business by staying out of your way. We don't want any trouble. We're unarmed."

The gunner circled the group of four then shook his head as if annoyed. "I'm not stupid, Reno Nevada. I watch the news."

Reno's expression went blank followed by a soft groan of annoyance. He licked his lips then shrugged and chuckled in a good-natured way. "Saw that, huh?"

"I read the newspapers and watch YouTube, too," said the man with the rifle. "Guess what? I know you used to be a cop. I know the black kid used to be some sort of art shop owner. I know this chump, over here, is a little Richie-Rich brat..."

"That there's an 80's cartoon, Fox," Jules murmured. Reno and Evan replied with muffled snickers.

The gunner brushed his barrel beneath Jules' chin. "But I don't know who you are, smartass."

"Retired Navy aviator," Jules replied. "But I signed up for the reserves. If'n ya shoot me, then yer' pissin' off a whole different TV show, called NCIS."

The gunner furrowed a brow at Jules for a moment then lowered his weapon, came around behind Jules and slapped him in the back of the head with his palm. "Shut up, JAG."

"Oh, no way," Jules said, ignoring the physical insult. "JAG was good, but NCIS was ten times better."

Evan cleared his throat and said, "Definitely agreed."

"More cartoons?" Fox groused.

Reno blinked. "Fox, dude, did you even own a TV as a kid? Netflix? Or iTunes? Something?"

Parker glanced back at Reno and the gunner, who now stood behind the ex-inspector. " My childhood wasn't toys and TV shows. It was competitions, going to Dad's Raiders' Games, and handheld video games on my phone. It was windsurfing, and hang-gliding and..."

The gunner brushed the barrel against the side of Fox's head. "Shut. The fuck. Up. Got it, kid? Shut up. The four of you are worth more as hostages than dead. That will get all of us off this island. So unless you boys want to be trapped here until the next storm ... you're all coming with us."

"Told you guys it was a storm," Reno said with a wry grin, having been the only one not to buy theory until now.

"Incidentally, monsieur, how did an eleven thousand ton ship get stuck on the middle of the island? I know you wan' us quiet but ... I lived one an aircraft carrier for years."

"Ask the boss when we get there." The gunner took each of their hands, one at a time, and cuffed them.

"How many pairs of handcuffs you keep on you, man?" asked Parker.

"He's getting upset," Reno whispered. "Let's give it a rest."

"You should listen to your pal, kid." The gunner took Reno's hands behind his back next. "Cop huh? I bet this has to be awkward, huh, baldy?"

Evan smirked. "Baldy. That makes you Krillin more-so than me."

Jules bit his tongue so as not to laugh. "Krillin eventually grows hair after he gets married to that Android babe. There's hope for you yet, Inspector."

The gunman grit his teeth together. "I can see the four of you are going to be a handful later. No worries, there's plenty of room in the brig for you kids. You can sit in the dark for a while until the boss comes down with the Satellite phone. Parker boy, you're going to use your slush fund money and call someone to come out here and get us."

Evan was next, getting his hands cuffed behind his back. "It's either that or, Fox, you stay on the island for five years and learn to shoot a bow and arrow and change your name to Oliver."

Fox smirked. "Okay, I got that joke. Green isn't really my color, Ev'."

"Shut up!" the gunman shouted in frustration, "Get up and start MARCHING." He pointed towards the dune, adding, "Move it!"

Jules asked, "How're we supposed to board yer ship, exactly? Can't climb a ladder or rope net with hands behind our backs. What's yer plan?"

"You'll kneel on a large skid and the crane will hoist your sorry-asses up to the flight deck, NOW MOVE!"

Evan frowned and moved closer to Reno and said, "Great, now we're going to be surrounded from all sides."

Nevada smirked and whispered back, "Great. When it's time, we can attack in every direction."

X

X

Meanwhile...

** The Coast Guard Investigator** rubbed his fingers against his right eye and sighed then leaned back in the chair, his back to the mirror. "So you're a goddess, huh? I'll say a prayer against you."

"It takes a fox to know 'clever' ... you're not clever."

The investigator folded his hands and shifted his weight in his chair. "Okay, okay. Let's go back to square one, here, lady. Because I'm not sure I understand. Let's review your previous statements. You claim you work for a lady that upset the Emperor of Japan and was hunted by eighty thousand soldiers and two especially named hunters that turned her into a stone?"

"In Nasu, yes. But the story of her eating travelers was greatly exaggerated. At least I would hope so." Sinopa glared up at the mirror behind the investigator then lowered her gaze back to him. She folded her hands, looking quite pleasant.

"Uh ... huh."

"I've already shown you my tails and ears. I've created fire for you. I've answered every question you've asked about me, you curious man. I've explained myself time and time ago, yet now you are frustrated. Why? Is it because your inquiries took you so far away from what you intended to learn?"

"We have investigators speaking to everyone on that yacht to determine why you're out here and how you got through our grid without being spotted until now. Despite the fact that your information is condescending to me, your tone hasn't been. So I'm dealing with it. So, 'spirit fox lady,' what are your weaknesses?"

"Why would I share that with you?" She paused but he remained silent. She looked around the room furtively then said. "Well, we're alone. I suppose I can tell you that I'm somewhat vulnerable to intense faith directed against me by religious humans. Blessed weapons wielded by obsessively and devoutly religious people - I combat this notion by not giving them a reason to wish me ill and so I have no problems. Oh, and the Oni. They're quite ... shall we say ... pesky?" Another pause, then, "I was on a motion picture television camera, seen with the Emperor of Japan and his son. I fear the son will take the throne soon. It doesn't take supernatural perception to see that time will soon bring Akihito home."

"Wait, I thought the Emperor was sending eighty thousand and two men to slay your employer?"

Sinopa casually gestured to the see-through mirror behind the investigator's head. "Ask her for clarity if you do not understand."

"Pardon?"

"Go on - Tamamo is quite impatient at times. So, allow me to introduce to you Kyuubi Tamamo-no-Mae-sama." She glanced back up at the mirror behind the investigator. "Sensei, if you will?"

The man turned about and stepped back from his chair, bumping into the corner of the table between himself and Sinopa. "Jesus Christ."

The image of the nine-tailed fox in the mirror stepped up onto a skull, arched her back, preened, and then morphed into a beautiful woman. She reached off to the left and drew garment over her body. She stretched then stood tall in the reflection, adorned in silky black and green robes.

The investigator looked over his shoulder at Sinopa to make sure the image wasn't a reflection. He turned back towards the mirror and said, "Can you guys see this on your side?"

A voice came over the PA. "Sir? We see only you and the redhead."

"You may address me as Tamamo-dono, mortal. I was a courtesan in the 1140's for the seventy-sixth Emperor of Japan. Eighth son of Toba. Your books know him as Konoe. I knew him as Narihito. You're confusing my Konoe with Akihito's son, Nar_u_hito. I've studied your nation's culture. I've had paper cuts that have lasted for longer than your country has had a government - it's difficult to take you serious, human."

The investigator stood still, eyes wide.

Tamamo sighed. "Japan's Imperial formation has been since 660 before your Christ. I speak of the 125th Emperor, now, with whom I have no official business." She tilted her head at the confusion on the man's face. "Eight hundred sixty-nine years ago. Sinopa's business with the current Emperor does not have bearing on my star-crossed romance over eight centuries ago. I speaking English, do you not understand it?" All at once Tamamo raised her voice, "Why do you look at me so?!"

Over the PA someone said, "We're recording a third voice. What's going on in there?"

"Lights!" the Federal Agent exclaimed. The illumination in the next room caused the mirror to become see-through. Tamamo became transparent but remained on the mirror. "Jesus Christ," he repeated.

Tamamo sighed.

"Are you the sensei she mentioned?"

Sinopa cut back in, "Yes. That is my sensei, Tamamo-no-Mae."

The investigator licked his lips and whispered, "Jesus Christ."

"Again with that name," Tamamo scoffed. "You are apparently ignorant to be in my presence. Bring Sinopa to your Prime Minister - she has every right to return where you found her. It is her destiny."

"I ... our country doesn't have a prime minister!"

Tamamo shrugged. "No matter. I always felt it was such a silly position. Japan created that office before the enactment of the Meiji Constitution. I never took it seriously. Take Sinopa to speak to your mortal leader. Or release her." Tamamo turned her attention to Sinopa and smiled somewhat. "That burn you feel is, in fact, the coming of your fourth tail. Try not to drink dry the Atlantic when it comes in from the pain. It doesn't last long. If you wish to return to this realm during the time when it breaches..."

"I can control myself," Sinopa scoffed. "I've given birth to twins."

"You have no such memories to which you can compare such a pain, little kohai. Speak of motherhood when you bridge a relationship with Topaz."

Sinopa sighed and ran her hands up through her lengthy carrot-colored locks. "Must you do this now? Argue with me - berate me in front of others? Do you see me, here, calling you 'Mizukume' or 'Wakamo?' Do you see me bringing up Sakabe, or tricking a thousand men out of their heads in Magadha of Tianzhu? Or Baosi? I know your defeats before *and * after you possessed Su Dáj? in China - a nogitsune Huli jingj."

Tamamo folded her arms and furrowed her brows. "I say a single word. You bring up an army of words. This is why I see you as a child compared to me."

"Really?" Sinopa glared at the woman in the reflection across from her. "I'm a fraction-of-a-fraction of your age, a mere three hundred fifty years old, and I've made far less devious decisions with my life than you did in your youth. Yet you treat me like a foolish child! You've evolved into something better than this by now. Please, Senpai. Do not embarrass me for your amusement."

Tamamo trailed off and frowned. In an uncharacteristic fashion, she lifted her hands somewhat defensively and, in a rather simple tone of defeat, said, "You're quite correct, Sinopa-chan. I was already wise enough to know better back then. Your decisions have all been honorable. But that doesn't make you any less of a child to me. When you grow six more tails, then we will talk as equals. For now, know your place, Sinopa. Senpai? No. Try Sensei."

Sinopa lifted her hands, causing the chain links to rattle between her wrists. Her ears lay flat, nearly pointed back. "Tamamo-san! 700BC! 780BC! You find yourself summoned to work for Inari for the next fourteen centuries, then what? You're bored again? 753 AD, you show up on the Japanese 'radar' as the saying now goes. You start trouble in Tang, China. Then ... then that master plan for that poor samurai in 1113 to get into Toba's palace?"

"Stop arguing!" said the Investigator. "You bicker like children over things I've never even heard of. It doesn't matter who either of you are in the end. Miss Crevan, you'll be headed back to the brig until we return to the mainland. And if you don't stop this nonsense, you'll be Gitmo's problem, not mine."

Tamamo-no-Mae turned her head back towards the Investigator adjacent to the table then said, "Release her." The nine-tailed womanly creature in the mirror opened her human-like hand. Sinopa's handcuffs turned to orange slag and dripped off. They fell onto the table, burning an engraving into the wood surface before cooling enough to lose its soft glow.

Sinopa rolled her eyes. "I could have done that without your help. I wore the bracelets out of respect for the humans, Tamamo-san."

"Very well, young one." Once more, she returned her gaze to the Federal Agent. "You're a rather broad man. Do you know why Japan is far more slender than your people? Because the National Diet is law and you have neither Diet, nor apparent understanding of law."

"Excuse me, what is that supposed to mean?"

Sinopa's ears perked up from her hair. "Tamamo, was that ... a pun?"

"Indeed, young one," said the woman in the reflection with a smile. "I've been studying this modern world. Humor is now comprised of something called 'word play' and often taken from elements such as sarcasm."

Crevan sighed. "Sir, forgive her. You are doing your job. She is being protective and means only to test your wits."

Tamamo scoffed "But I am correct - these people and their ships have no true law here. This is what they call International Waters. These ships sail for their Homeland Security." Her eyes once more cut back to the agent. "Secure your homeland - this section of water is certainly not your home, nor is it land."

The door on the port bulkhead opened and an armed man came into the interrogation room and aimed a gun at the glass panel. The investigator immediately forced the gun down, pointing it at the deck. "Absolutely not!" he exclaimed. "There is sensitive recording equipment on the other side of that glass pane!"

"Sorry sir!"

Tamamo smiled and bowed to the group. "Fair-thee-well, Sinopa-chan." She faded from the mirror.

Sinopa sighed and slumped back in her chair, appearing embarrassed. "I wonder how the others are making out."

X

X

Nearby...

** "What do you mean you don't want to make out?** Aww, are you sure?" Karla folded her arms.

A CGIS agent stood up from the chair across from her and turned to the mirror, arms folded. "Young lady, I'm offended by the notion."

"I'm not as young as I look, Lieutenant. And for the record, I thought CGIS agents were civilians to make investigations more fair?" She pointed up to a CCTV held on its stand by duct tape. "Does that thing even work? Looks a little antiquated. Oh, I get it - that records to zoetrope, right? It's just a tad older than Betamax, I'm sure. Ah well, I probably wouldn't have done it anyway. You have my boyfriend in the next room. I was only kidding. Listen, sweetheart, I'm pregnant."

"Excuse me?" He turned back to Karla and put his hands on his hips. "You're pregnant? How far along?"

"I've not even had my first ultrasound yet. Why not escort me down to your sickbay so I can have a proper physical to ensure my health. I'm an American Citizen, now. I emigrated from England before George Washington became the president, so ... I'm an American Citizen. C'mon ... I wanna see the baby. And it's your duty to ensure I'm not going to give birth to a terrorist, right?" She grinned then added, "Just point me in the direction, heck I'll find it myself if I have to..."

"Ma'am, stop. My daughter is older looking than you. I'm not interested in your advances. And I served in the Guard for six years. I'm here on assignment. I'm not an acting Lieutenant anymore. I'm a Federal Agent, now."

"Are you from Boston?" she asked.

"Uhm. Lexington, why?"

"Oh, no reason," Karla said with a shrug. "B_ah_-st_ah_n. Salem in the summ_ah_. P_ah_k the c_ah_; bike to M_ah_blehead, you wicked piss_ah_. Ah can't quite decide if I ever liked Gov_a_hn_ah_ R_ah_mney. Say, do you rememb_ah_ Michael Duk_ah_kis? What a c_ah_d, thinkin' he could ev_ah_ r_ah_n against the direct_ah_ of the C_-ah-_A back in '88."

"Just stop."

"St_ah_p. Forgot that one." Karla froze completely still, panned her eyes from left to right then, in a soft voice, added, "Still pregnant." She saw the agent's expression, showing his frustration. The demoness cleared her throat and asked, "Where's my Obamacare?"

"We'll take you down to sickbay if you're ill. However, we do not keep the necessary equipment aboard for you to..."

"What'cha do with Sinopa, Eric, Rufus, Patience and Topaz? And don't lie to me. An ultrasound can be used for more than spying on babies. I'm sure you have one."

"Miss, please calm down." He stood up and waved for her to rise from her seat. "We're headed back down to the brig. I'll see about scheduling you a physical. I would like to speak to more people from your group. One of them is already next-door. Up."

Karla stood, obediently, and wiggled her fingers at him. "These handcuffs are a joke. I don't even allow them in the bedroom because they're nothing more than a punch line to me." She moved to the door and the investigator opened it. She licked her lips suggestively and glanced back at him then narrowed her gaze slightly. "You don't have a large vocabulary, do you? I've noticed you like to say simple worded things."

"Ma'am, one's intelligence is not determined by rare or fancy words with many syllables."

"You mean atypical or obscure multisyllabic words like ...pneumonoultramicroscopicsili covolcanokoniosis?" She offered him a dry-humored smile.

He gave her a gentle nudge forward without a word.

"We can go half that length... Electrohydrodynamics."

"That's several words, Miss Howard. Now move."

Karla feigned a yawn then shook her head. "It's a compound word, sweetums. Like dielectrophoretic." She stepped over the metallic lip of the bulkhead doorway. "The longest word in the English language is the chemical name of the Titin protein. It has a little over 189,800 letters."

"How fantastic. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, now move."

"Sorry, babe. That's only thirty-four letters." Karla glanced back at the pesky metal lip in the doorway then continued into the narrow hallway. "The sickness of inhaled silica dust I mentioned earlier has forty-five. I still win. And yours was a made up word from an old book, it has no synonym or antonym, nor any definition. Mine has meaning."

"This isn't a competition. Now move."

She abruptly stopped in the hallway and turned to face him directly, hands still cuffed together. "I never stopped until now. So here's a simply worded reply that you can understand. Can it, sailor. I move at my pace." She ducked a metal staircase, turned left and headed through another bulkhead doorframe. The walkway opened wider up ahead. She brought her shackled hands up and coughed into her left fist. "Electrophotomicrographically ."

The Federal Agent ground his teeth together.

As they moved into the hallway, Sinopa stepped from her own interrogation room and waved at Karla, sans cuffs. "Karla! Tamamo came. She ... was a bit of an embarrassment to me but she still cares! She confirmed what I've been saying for the past few days. I think there will be a fourth tail soon. She said it will be painful at first but I'm more of a danger to the elements around me than anything. Oh, and she said when it finally appears, the pain will be quite brief. Shorter than labor, apparently."

"Outstanding, darling. 'Labor' ... I guess I'll find out what all the fuss is about that soon enough." Karla tilted her head and asked, "Where are your shackles?"

"Tamamo burned off. I didn't ask her to do it but ... she does as she pleases. Part of what I meant when I said she embarrassed me."

"Lieutenant, get those two down to the brig and keep the ginger away from mirrors."

"Aye," said Karla's investigator. "Very good, sir." He put his hand on the small of Karla's back and gave a guiding push. He withdrew a pair of fresh handcuffs from his belt and moved behind Sinopa and put her wrists into the new restraints. "I'll remove these when I return you to your cell, ladies."

"Stop being pushy," Karla said. As they moved through the metallic hallways of the aging Coast Guard ship, the group came to an intersection where two men were arguing with one another. Karla cleared her throat before the arresting officer could say anything. "Hey! Boys! What are you two scrapping over?"

They looked at Karla then at the man behind her and stiffened up, seeing his rank. Both fell into line adjacent to one another. The Investigator narrowed his gaze then said, "Answer the girl's question."

"Money, sir."

"At ease," said the agent, adding, "Find a more mature way to work out your differences; beat it." The group began moving through the halls again.

"That was kinda hot," Karla said. "Chanticleer hegemony."

"I'm sorry?"

Howard smiled at him. She tilted her head and said, "Two cocks fighting over cash. Nevermind, babe. The joke is ruined; it went right over your head. Moving on," she added at the end, pronouncing the last word, 'Ahn,' to tease the man about his dialect. The group stopped at another intersection beneath a staircase comprised of short, shallow metal steps.

"Did I miss something here?" asked Sinopa. "There seems to be a rather terse exchange between the two of you."

"Oh, no, sweetheart. He's just winjing because I won't yield to his Government's draconian demands. Right! Moving on."

"The only thing that needs to be moving on is you, girl. Or you'll keep those cuffs AHN yer wrists all the way to Gitmo."

She teleported the cuffs off, waved her arms wildly, like a preteen, then teleported the cuffs back into her wrists. "I can get out any time. I just choose not to. Don't push me again. Or I'll unleash full pregnancy wrath on your puny mortal mind. And trust me, honey, you don't want or need that sort of crap in your life, babe. Now, for you to believe me, you need to stick your head under your boat. From what I understand, sonar won't work. So why don't you get a diver with a nice camera and take a look for yourselves. Then you tell me _why we're out here and why you've been _ordered to keep people out of this area for no apparent reason."

"I ... just ... walk faster!" The Lieutenant clenched his left hand into a fist then released it. "You're toying with me somehow. Just..." They took the stairs, continued up a hallway and stopped in front of a group of cells.

Karla turned about and said, "Now watch." She disappeared and reappeared inside the cell with Sinopa, facing away from the CGIS Agent. "Once more for the cheap seats." Karla disappeared again then reappeared in the same spot, but facing the Lieutenant through the bars. Her cuffs disappeared, then Sinopa's new cuffs.

The Lieutenant blinked and looked down at the weight on his uniform. Both sets of cuffs hung from his left and his right front belt loops.

She smiled. "See? No trick. If you want tricks, go see David Copperfield, honey."

Silence.

Karla tittered with delight. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself? Anything at all? I'm in jail, I'm behaving; so what more do you want, babe?"

He stared at her for a moment, backed up to the door leading into the brig, then said, "Antidisestablishmentarianism." He quickly slipped back through the door, pulled it shut behind himself, and left.

"What in the hell was that all about?" Eric asked in a soft voice.

Karla grinned. "We just came to an understanding, he and I."

"Yeah? What understanding is that?" asked Eric.

"That I'm in charge and he's putty in my hands."

"Watch it now," said Eric. "We already have one 'Sire' running around, telling people what to do."

Karla placed her hands on her head and squinted. "God, another one."

"What's wrong?" asked Eric.

"I ... just need a minute." She settled on the bench; the group made room for her.

"Karla? What's wrong?"

"Headache. One sec. God, this one came out of the blue."

He knelt adjacent to her and used his thumb to ease her eyelid open. Her pupils appeared normal.

The demoness brought her hands to her temples and began to rub. "December 19th, 1997," she said.

"Pardon?" asked Eric.

Karla slumped against the wall, still keeping her hands on either side of her head, murmuring to herself. "It'll pass in a moment."

A child's cry reverberated at the back of her head as the floor of memories returned. The crying child reached for his mother but, instead, the woman pressed him against his seat and made sure his seatbelt was fastened firmly. The little one continued crying as, all around them, the airplane shook. Captain Tsu Wai Ming got up onto one elbow and spoke from where he lay, strewn across the floor.

"What's he saying?" asked Karla in a melancholy tone.

"He's begging," said the man at her side. "He said he's a father." The man glanced over his shoulder to the young copilot in the cockpit. "Duncan Ward," said the man in English, "You're a New Zealander, yes? So you speak English, Kiwi ... we're in control of this aircraft now. You WILL strap yourself into your seat."

The youthful copilot appeared to tense up but moved into his seat and drew the seatbelt harness over himself.

The man at Karla's side laughed. "Twenty-three, aren't you, Duncan? Karla, he's almost young enough to be your type."

Karla Chintzy grit her teeth. "Why are you doing this?"

The man turned to face her directly, gazing straight into her eyes. "My name is Sire St. Leonard. You may not remember me, because I didn't want you to ... but we've crossed paths before. That's why I chose you to help me today. You've changed, Karla. The last time we saw one another was before Tunguska. Back then you were a chaotic little thing - living up to the self-proclaimed title of 'demon.' You killed innocent people, innocent supernaturals ... you were a power player. And you're eye-candy on top of being powerful ... but then something changed and you were on the wrong side in Tunguska. You and Nathaniel Carrington and your little friends ... And that Austrian mortal, Tesla. I've always vowed to kill all of you. Nathaniel has been difficult. But you ... you've been useful so I'll let you live and make you forget any of this ever happened. That way we can play again one day. Now. Use your telekinesis and push the flight yoke forward. Fly us straight into the river."

Karla looked at the man, unable to ignore his suggestion. She glanced to the left, towards the cockpit, then back towards her right, watching the terrified people. Sire placed a palm on her shoulder and added, "Go on, now."

Tears welled up in her eyes.

Sire sighed. "Crying? This isn't the Karla I knew before 1908. Now, fly us into the river."

She reluctantly lifted her left hand. Pink glyphs incandesced beneath the flesh of her palm. The flight yoke began to tilt forward, causing the nose of SilkAir 185 to ease forward. The airliner and its passengers felt the familiar sensation of a rollercoaster as it peaked over the crest of a tall hill.

"God help me," she sobbed.

"With your right hand, Karla, I want you to create a field around us. Keep the two of us upright and make it so debris will not strike us. Now."

Karla Chintzy's right hand lifted. Her palm and forearm began to glow just beneath the skin. Tears gathered on her chin. As the airplane began pointing towards the ground, Sire and Karla levitated from the aisle.

A laptop fell from its case in an overhead compartment, struck her shoulder then hit the carpet and popped open. It slid forward then stopped near Karla. She looked down at it, afraid to look at the terrified passengers.

She glared at the gray Toshiba Satellite Pro. Her heart raced and her stomach turned from the guilt she felt in following his instructions.

"Strengthen your field around us. There will be a lot of debris and people flinging about in a moment. It will be chaotic. If you're rendered unconscious, you'll die with the plane. Now, Karla ... I researched how you survived Tunguska. I understand that you TELEPORTED ... and now I understand that you've begun mastery of teleportation. Is that right? Answer truthfully."

"Yes." She watched as the computer began sliding down the floor again, beneath her, and into the cockpit. She watched it, then shifted her eyes to the young copilot, whose eyes were wide with fear.

Ahead of the plane, Indonesia came into view. She saw the small line of the Musi River. Alarms screamed from the cockpit, blaring multiple tones. Duncan Ward pulled hard on the flight yoke. Karla watched the shift of the distant Java Sea come into view from beneath the aircraft, now pointing straight towards the surface. Several more bodies of water, parallel to the Musi River, came into view on the left and right sides.

"Don't let him take control of this plane," Sire said firmly. "I mean it."

The captain fell from the aisle, glanced off of Karla's telekinetic bubble and wound up in the cockpit. Duncan reached for the man, but Tsu slapped his hands away and shouted, "Leave me! Pull up! Pull up, Ward!"

Karla glanced back at the passengers. Bonny Hicks turned to her betrothed. Karla glanced over others, from countries all over the world. Parents, children, lovers...

"Please, just point out the Asian Justiciar! We can teleport the three of us. I ... I can drop him from..."

"Stop arguing, succubus slut. They'll all die together. There will be no supernatural investigation. USPRI will stay away from this case. Now, turn back to the cockpit and watch the ground. You will teleport us to safety when I tell you to do so, but not a moment sooner."

Sire waited until her eyes returned to the earth, which rushed up to meet them. He glanced back at the panicking passengers. Oxygen masks dropped from the ceilings. People screamed, cried and reached for their loved ones, pinned to their seats by their lap belts.

An eerie smile spread across the man's face, watching the chaos all around him, protected within Karla's telekinetic bubble. Briefcases, diaper bags and other articles fell towards him. He blinked but remained otherwise still as another carryon bag glanced of the invisible shield.

"Fascinating," he said under his breath, then tilted his head up, slightly. Sire swallowed to relieve the pressure building in his ears, caused by the rapid descent. His gaze returned towards the cockpit. The Musi River grew in size. Again, he looked around as though enjoying the carnage. Parts of the plane could be seen in the side windows, coming away from the fuselage.

The oxygen masks appeared to float, as if weightless. Small debris - hats, shampoo bottles from people's broken luggage bags, a pair of sandals ... it all hovered in the aisle, occasionally bouncing against the aisle, ceiling or armrest of a chair.

A toothbrush spun about, slowly, just feet from where Sire hovered. Again, he looked back towards the cockpit. The river rushed up towards the plane.

Sire put both hands on Karla's shoulders. "Put us on the embankment, so that we can watch."

Without another word, they vanished.

Karla appeared on the mucky shore adjacent to Sire.

Seconds later, the Boeing 737 plunged into the river. Pieces of the airplane, which had ripped clean from its descent speed, began raining down in chase. Karla dropped into the muck, on her knees. She trembled in defeat. "Why!? Why did it have to happen like that? What have I done?"

"Stop your whining."

"They're going to find out what we've done. Those things have recorders that will have survived a plunge into the mud and..."

"No, Karla. You're wrong. I popped the breakers of the voice recorder and, a few minutes later, I popped the breaker on the data recorder, right before our descent. All part of the greater plan, my dear. Needless to say, they didn't record anything; we will not be a variable in the investigation."

Karla pushed her hands up to cover her face, devastated by what she'd done. "You're a bastard."

A grin formed on the man's lips. He turned to Karla, used his left hand and lifted her chin. "Right now, you're at your weakest. You're upset, broken and defeated. Things have little meaning, as the weight of guilt and grief are all you can focus on. This makes you weak-minded at the time, girl. From here on out, you're in a daze. You're going to make use of your teleportation and head north; continue on to Singapore. I want you to start pushing this out of your mind. You'll forget about those people at the gate, back in Jakarta, who let us on without a ticket because I told them to do so. You'll forget about boarding the plane. You'll forget the emotions you felt, and you'll forget the moments we spoke. You'll forget the sadness, the fear, the death, the crash. All of it. And you'll forget we spoke just now."

"What now," she sobbed.

"I will stay here to ensure that there is plenty of confusion between the NTSB and Indonesia. Trust me, dear, the Singapore Police Force will report that there was no evidence to backup whatever the NTSB has concluded in their investigation. Pure chaos. Meanwhile, you will take a trip to the local bar, find a nice young man to buy you several drinks, then you will board a flight from Changi Airport back towards home. Settle down in California again. Once you are in California, you'll lay down and sleep the whole day away."

_"I'll sleep the whole day away," she murmured. Tears dripped from her chin. _

"Exactly. Once you wake up, you'll have completely forgotten any of this ever happened. Tonight, you'll have a nightmare, but when you wake up, you won't remember the major details. Once you look away from me, you'll not remember what you did, or that you saw my face or heard my name."

"I won't remember that you're a bastard."

"You're stronger in mind than I gave you credit for, whore. Regardless, you won't remember anything. The memory of today, the crash, and who I am, will all be lost to you. You'll have breakfast, then you'll have sex as you always do, and you'll let the sexual high wipe away any bit of remaining guilt or grief. You'll be back to your usual flirty self, Karla Chintzy. But something will feel like it's nagging. Just something small, at the back of your mind. And when you start to think about it, you'll decide that it's actually time for you to change your last name once again."

"I hate this last name. I hate being the girl that did all this."

"No rush, little jezebel. But you will pick one before the end of the millennium that will make you feel better, leaving you to believe that whatever tinge you felt at the back of your mind ... the name change must have been what bothered you. You'll get yourself a cozy place just east of San Francisco and stay quiet for a while. Now go, and block out everything that happened today, exactly as I told you to do, jezebel."

The succubus, kneeling in the muck, began rubbing her face again. Sire glanced about himself then folded his hands. "Now we wait - surely a witness will call the authorities to come investigate my art piece." Sire watched as bubbles surfaced out in the river, over the crash site. "Mm, can't say I've ever plummeted thirty-five thousand feet before. A new one, even for me." He glanced at his watch. "Quarter after. Go on, Karla. You may leave, now."

Karla Howard gasped softly. She brought her hands down from her temples and covered her face. "What have I done?"

Eric blinked at her sudden change in demeanor. "Hon? What's wrong?"

"Sire St. Leonard. I just ... I just remembered something. Eric, just ... oh my God, what've I done?" She wrapped her arms around him and hid her face against his shirt. "Jesus, what've I done? Sire made he a murderer. Oh God." Her tears soaked through a spot on his shirt in a matter of seconds. "Oh my God, I killed them all."

X

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Next chapter: https://www.sofurry.com/view/670612