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Merc's Metamorphs

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Chapter 6: The Rook

The text became the topic of discussion among the three of them that night. Frank was always careful to the point of being neurotic when it came to protecting his human identity and those of his boyfriends; how could anyone know that they were Merc's Metamorphs? Although it wasn't a foregone conclusion that the individual who had messaged Frank new for CERTAIN that he was indeed Merc, whoever had sent the text was obviously confident enough in their knowledge to act on it. The three of them had taken several hours to come to grips with what they were facing-- the stages of grief were just as applicable for an unpleasant surprise, and so anger, bargaining, and then depression gave way to acceptance. After that was a matter of figuring out how to respond.

The text was a job offer, which should have gone to a cell that was specifically for employers to contact Merc, and yet it went to Frank's personal phone. The job offer, in fact, was practically an accusation identifying him as Merc. The sent a simple text file along with the text and, after Juan verified that there were no viruses included, the three sat down to really look it over. To say that it was a comprehensive "Hello, you're going to work for me now." would have been an understatement.

Whoever was responsible for the text (and accompanying file) was very direct, identifying that they knew Frank was Merc. Further, the sender attested that there was an important job which could only be completed by Merc's Metamorphs. As if to rub his face in the knowledge, the potential employer reassured Frank that the job could be done over the weekend so it wouldn't interfere with his classes. If that was the worst of it then the revelation would have been bad enough, but the author of the cryptic disclosure only made it worse.

The sender acknowledged that they were aware that Juan and Chance were also Metamorphs though, much to everyone's relief, their 'stalker' incorrectly identified Juan as Demon and Chance as Bruiser-- any imperfection in the stranger's understanding of them could be celebrated, but the comfort it brought did little to discourage their sense of unease at the otherwise accurate depictions of their situation. Included with all of the information about them were the details of the job which, oddly, came with all of the bells and whistles of an actual work contract rather than just 100% blackmail.

Juan didn't much care for that part. "Merc's Metamorphs has always stayed out of politics, guys. Do we REALLY want to get involved in something like this?"

Their mysterious employer explained that their task was straight forward: they had to overthrow a despotic warlord who had taken control of Santagua, a small, South American country. Chance didn't seem to have Juan's reservations. "Isn't something like overthrowing the leader of a military coup an approved activity by the IPAB?"

Frank was never really completely up-to-date on all of the International Powered Assessment Board but, fortunately, 'compliance and protocol' were one of Juan's areas of expertise. "Technically? Yes. Though, in the case of Santagua, there are a LOT of rumors that the warlord who took over was backed by a 'northern benefactor' who has a lot of clout with the IPAB, so that could get messy."

Whenever Juan used the term 'northern benefactor' in reference to South America he usually meant the US, which made sense, since the federal government had quite the track record when it came to interfering with other governments in the western hemisphere. Setting aside their personal ethos and the guidelines by which they normally operated, Frank kept the discussion to a matter of 'how could they?' before arguing as to whether they should or not. "According to this 'briefing', whoever's making us do this says we have til the end of the month to get the job done."

Juan was still grumbling. "If whoever did this knows us so well then they should know we don't get involved in politics... and now, what? They're doing this just because they want us to dangle from their strings like a puppet?"

Chance, looking over Frank's shoulder, was much more pragmatic. "I think it's probably just a matter of convenience. Whoever this is, they seem to think they know who we are-- and they're really close, to be honest... and they think that they can encourage us with the stick AND the carrot at the same time."

Since Juan was seated opposite them, Frank chose to provide the full disclosure. "If we don't do this, they reveal our identities to the world but, if we DO take the job they're paying double our usual fees. Seems like they're holding all the cards, but still wanting to do the 'polite business' thing."

Juan scowled. "I still don't like it."

Chance shrugged. "I mean... if we DO the job, who's to say that whoever's doing this won't reveal who we are anyway? And, if they don't, they can just keep blackmailing us until the end of time, right?"

Frank chose to look at the positive side. "Well... heh... at least they're paying well, right guys?"

Juan didn't apprecaite the humor. "Not funny."

Realizing that he could either scream or laugh, Frank chose to smile. "KINDA funny... I think so, at least."

The two of them glanced to Chance to act as the tie breaker and, as usual, he wasn't much help. Raising an arm he held his hand, palm down parallel with the ground and tilted it back and forth. "Eh..."

Juan sighed. "Alright... Frank, you said it was signed, right? What's the name of our blackmailer?"

Frank quickly corrected him. "Our potential EMPLOYER (it's all how you look at it, babe)-- the sig line says 'The Rook'."

Chance interrupted that train of thought with a declaration. "Twice our usual going rate... that's a LOT of money."

Juan's scowl returned. "For a LOT of trouble. It's getting involved in politics, Chance. That's not our usual M.O.-- you know that."

Frank nodded. "Right.... overthrowing a military dictator in a third world country isn't the same as interrupting a black market sale, making a drug bust or stealing some green diamonds. This is pretty high end stuff."

Juan joined him in nodding. "Right... and I'm worried about who we're supposed to be working for... whoever it is signed off as 'The Rook'. That's no organized group, and definitely not affiliated with the Legion or Unlimited. Whoever 'The Rook' is, they are aren't a known variable so we have no idea what we're getting ourselves into. Not sure about you two, but I don't like the idea of cutting a deal with the devil."

Frank was a little more open to it, but he appreciated the input. "Okay... well... what DO we know about whoever sent this text?"

Juan immediately jumped in with some brainstorming thoughts. "Okay... they're using the title 'The Rook', which is a kind of a corvid-- a crow. A bird."

Chance rolled his eyes and let out an audible huff. "Dude... you are SUCH a vet student-- a Rook is the castle piece from Chess."

Frank rubbed his chin in thought. "Okay... so maybe it could be a bird Powered, or maybe a chess enthusiast. That's a start... I guess."

Despite the humor he inadvertently injected into the statement he opened up the search function on his phone and quickly did a check for any bird Metamorphs or Altered and all of the hits came back with raptors-- an eagle, a falcon, hawk, and the like-- no ravens. Switching over to the chess angle, it didn't take long before he found something that caught his interest. Looking to his boyfriends, Frank presented what he found. "How about a Mastermind named 'The Chessmaster'?"

In addition to taking jobs from the usual sources (Unlimited, Legion, governments, municipalities and non-government organizations), some Metamorphs and Altered ended up throwing their lot in with individuals who worked from the shadows and worked their machinations on the world. Masterminds ran the spectrum between self-serving egomaniac narcissists to selfless, altruistic well-wishers but the one constant among them was that they rarely if ever connected with large groups or any organizations which they themselves did not control. They had a tendency to offer one-off contracts and didn't make a habit of regularly employing the same powered contractors.

Juan had his own cell out and was obviously doing his own search. "I thought the name sounded familiar-- yeah... The Chessmaster has made the news a few times this year. Most of the folks on the Powered Employment board who've had any interaction at all say that The Chessmaster's contracts are usually 'interesting', and that all of them seem to follow some kind of semi-egalitarian approach to solving world problems."

Chance scoffed. "Yeah? Well how exactly is overthrowing a country 'egalitarian'?"

Frank flipped through a few articles. "Well... hmm... looks like Santagua has had a few power struggles in the last forty years. In the early 80s they were pretty much a dictatorship, and then they went socailist in the 90s."

Juan nodded. "Right. Some rumor mongers seem to think that the CIA had a hand in the recent military coup... you know how the USa feels about socialistic governments... especially ones that run countries with a large amount of oil which, surprise: Santagua's largest significant export."

Frank set his phone down. "Yeah... apparently anti-American sentiment was pretty popular there for a few decades. Multiple counts of human rights violations and other problems since the military took over. Guess you can always count on the USA to look after its own interests and step on the little guys who get in the way, huh?"

Chance huffed. "Which is why we avoid politics!"

Shrugging, Frank glanced to Juan first, and then Chance. "I mean... I don't LIKE getting involved in political stuff but, I mean, you DO kinda have to admit that freeing the people of Santagua from an oppressive military regime is pretty black and white... and the IPAB doesn't list targeting Santagua military as a net-negative organization for the purpose of computing mission standing."

Juan shook his head. "Just because the IPAB says it won't get us targeted for infractions doesn't mean it's right."

Frank didn't agree. "Dunno... seems morally it's pretty black and white to me."

Chance, surprisingly, took Juan's side. "Eh... nothing involving the CIA is black and white and if the US DID get involved in the recent power structure change you KNOW the CIA's probably involved..."

Juan had one of his word-play moments of inspiration. "The cocaine trade in the 80s was pretty white and black... cocaine for the African Americans was supposed to 'solve a few problems' at once, and look where it got em?"

Frank frowned. "Focus, Juan. Considering we'd be messing with CIA plans, that should be a POSITIVE for taking the job. In fact, there's a lot of good reasons-" he started counting them off on his fingers. "Monkey wrenching the gear works for the CIA, double pay, keeping our identities secret--"

Juan interjected "Assuming The Rook holds up their end of the bargain..."

Chance rolled his eyes. "We don't even know a THING about who's making demands."

Frank glanced back to the tab he had opened about The Chessmaster. "Well... the more we talk about this, the more it seems like a good fit. The Chessmaster is known for employing people using a pseudonym and not declaring their involvement until after the job's done...."

Chance nodded thoughtfully. "And a Rook IS a chess piece, so I guess that'd make sense, yeah..."

Juan was quick to object. "OR a bird. We shouldn't jump to conclusions."

Chance smirked. "What-- so... you think we're being employed by another Metamorph then? A raven maybe?"

Frank shook his head. "Not a registered one anyway."

Juan addressed the question. "It wouldn't have been the first time a Metamorph has tried to start a faction and, I DO want to point out, usually that ends badly-- not just for the Metamorph, but for anyone who's taking their jobs. Too chaotic... no boundaries or policies to help regulate the activity. They almost always self destruct and run negative. Heck-- I think there's a whole division of Unlimited dedicated to chasing down things like that."

Chance rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah? Well... I mean... out of everyone who finds out the human identities of Metamorphs, other Metamorphs are usually the ones who do it, right?"

Juan scoffed. "The three of us are SO. CAREFUL. when transitioning between lives... I can't think of a single Metamorph who would know about us... unless you told Torpedo..."

Chance responded to the accusation with a thrown pillow. The 'discussion' devolved into a pillow fight, followed by wrestling. Frank, however, remained looking at his cell, reviewing the text he'd received. Despite their lengthy discussion that night it was getting late and they had to prepare for classes in the morning. Their potential 'employer' had given them time to get it done which, in turn, meant that Frank had time to consider his options. He resolved then and there to figure things out and spend the week measuring the pros and cons of going outside their comfort zone. It was the start to a very long, very thoughtful week, interrupted with 'occasional' bouts of class time.

* * * * *

Frank's political science classes held a position of importance in his mind the following week. Even as almost every waking thought was taken up with considerations regarding the pending job offered by 'The Rook', he still had classes to get through, but in no other class was the significance of his possible decisions made clearer than in a college class devoted to dealing with systems fo governance and power, and the analysis of political activities, political thought, political behavior and laws. It also didn't help that Professor Monroe chose to focus that week on uprising, rebellions and coups, or that he broke the class into teams. What made it even worse was that there were an uneven number of students, which left Frank working with the teacher's aide.

Christopher Yang was a computer science student who chose to take a professor's aide elective work study class and, for whatever reason, was assigned to Professor Monroe. He was nice enough for an overachiever, but what Frank couldn't understand was why the young-looking Asian 'kid' didn't end up getting assigned to something more suitable for his major. That week, as they sat going over a chapter in the text regarding the effects of military coups on civilians, Frank decided to ask. "Hey-- Chris?"

The uptight aide corrected him immediately. "Christopher."

Frank humored him. "Christopher... I was wondering..."

Looking up from the reading material, he responded. "Trouble with the coursework?"

Shaking his head, Frank spoke his mind. "No... just wondering: how did a computer science student end up getting assigned as an assistant to a poly-sci professor?"

Christopher looked across the study table at Frank and, pausing long enough to pull off his glasses, offered what almost looked like a shy smile. "Is there something wrong with having interests outside my major?"

The response put Frank off balance and he had to reassess the situation, coming back a little less forward in his inquiry. "No... I-- I just mean, if you were going to be a class aide, wouldn't it make more sense to focus on your course of study?"

Christopher folded his reading glasses and set them off to the side before folding his hands on the table in front of himself. "Why the sudden interest in me over the course work?"

There was something in his tone that almost sounded playful, but Frank had never really seen the aide be anything but direct and professional. "I'm not-- I-- I mean..."

Frank found himself stumbling over his own words, and the awkwardness only seemed to make Christopher smile wider. Eventually, the student aide came to his rescue. "I really enjoyed poly-sci in high school and I scored high enough that the university waved the course and year requirements to let me sign up."

Frank was dumbfounded at how quickly the seemingly subdued 'Asian kid' had sent him on his heels. "Year... requirements?"

His 'study buddy' nodded. "Right. Usually they don't let Freshmen in the class, let alone as a student aide. Fortunately they made an exception. Helping a professor is a great way to learn and I even get paid to do it thanks to the work study program. Win-win, right?"

"You're... a freshman?"

Christopher winked. "Technically this would be my senior year of high school, but I graduated early... so... yeah... college freshman."

Frank was further caught off guard. "Oh... I..."

The aide inched closer. "I turned 18 last month though."

Not really having any idea on how to respond to that, Frank looked back down at his book. "Oh. Okay..."

His study companion lowered his voice. "Thanks for taking an interest, anyway... not many of my classmates ever bother trying to get to know me."

Frank shrugged, feeling suddenly a little warm under the collar. Christopher was hot, in a 'just turned 18' kind of way and, even if he didn't usually go for Asians, there was something about him that was definitely appealing. "Sure, Christopher. Any time."

A hand reached across the table and rested atop his. "It's okay, Frank... you can call me Chris if you like."

* * * * *

Frank discussed what could only have been described as a come-on that night with his boyfriends. Chance was only moderately agitated. "Were you leading him on or something? What the heck, Frank?"

Shaking his head, Frank kept his calm. "No. Like I said, it was out of the blue. We were studying and I asked him why a computer science student would serve as an aide for a polysci professor."

Juan was a little calmer. "It sounds like he's been pretty lonely... it'd make sense if he was used to going solo through life that he might reach out the moment someone showed any interest in him."

Chance wasn't done. "So... what's the plan then? You leading him on to get the answers to the next test?"

The comment was passive-aggressive, and fell in with Chance's usual approach to things when he started getting jealous. Frank remained cool headed, since one of them needed to. "Relax, Chance. I let him know that it was just innocent curiosity and that, if he really wanted to I'd call him Chris, but I also made sure he knew right away that I already had two boyfriends and I wasn't really looking for anyone else."

The statement seemed to calm Chance down. "Well... at least it's good to know that you don't have a specific 'type', right?"

Juan smirked. "You mean computer science students?"

The question earned him a dirty look from Chance. "Computer Science majors aren't the same as IT security, Juan. That's like saying I could call you a marine biologist because you're studying to be a vet tech."

Juan relented. "Okay. Sorry. Relax, love... I'm still processing all this too. You chill now?"

Chance let out a long breath. "Yeah. I guess."

Frank couldn't help but start something. "I told the both of you right away and nothing happened. At least you don't have to worry about me pulling a Torpedo with the guy... right, CHANCE?"

For the second time that week, Chance was quick on the draw with a pillow.

* * * * *

By Wednesday night the guys gathered up to discuss the pros and cons of the proposed job, going over what they'd each separately considered throughout the week to combine viewpoints and brainstorm a solution. Frank was quick to repeat the pros and cons he'd already identified on Sunday and neither Chance nor Juan could come up with much else. They weighed the likelihood of being double-crossed by The Rook against the certainty of having their identities leaked to the masses, and also whether they would be able to trust their potential employer to follow up with their promises.

Being the one studying law, Frank was the one who had to spell out their options to ensure a successful business deal. He was more focused on criminal justice, but there were some uniform guidelines that ruled all forms of law. In the end, he proposed the strongest way to protect themselves would be a legal contract that included a gag order, or a 'non disclosure agreement'. Although it wasn't exactly the greatest form of protection and offered no complete guarantees, at least it put a powerful punitive barrier in between an honest transaction and them being double-crossed.

That, and the fact that nobody could be compelled legally to divulge the identity of a Metamorph who didn't have a negative social standing meant that it was better than nothing. Once his boyfriends had learned that much, they were a little more willing to entertain the idea that doing the job would be at least a step in the right direction. Chance, however, pressed the issue. "So... what's to say he won't just sell us out later once the job is done? Won't the contract be over after that?"

Frank shook his head. "Nah. We can set the terms of the non-disclosure agreement and make it so that he can't transfer, sell or otherwise divulge the information... non-disclosures DO usually have an expiration date, but we can always look at other options at that point too so, at the very least, it'll give us some wiggle room."

Juan spoke up. "What about agreeing to do a job for The Rook like, every few years? That'd keep the contract open, and we can spell out the terms ahead of time... like no more political work. Right?"

Once the three of them had their heads wrapped around the options they had within the confines of what The Rook had presented them they slowly came around to the idea. The discussion of IF they should do the job transitioned over into how they would negotiate the terms of it. They spent that night and most of the following day contemplating how they'd handle the situation and, by Thursday night Frank had a working draft of a contract. He sent it back to the contact he received on his phone, only he did so from his Merc phone rather than his Frank one. They got a response back surprisingly fast.

The Rook agreed to the terms they set forth, acknowledging that they were an employer of their word and was willing to be bound by a legal agreement; once they did the job then The Rook would not utilize the information regarding their identities in any way, and the non-disclosure agreement would be valid for five years. Further, The Rook reserved the right to send them jobs at any time, which they could accept or decline as they deemed proper and any job they accepted would further extend the non-disclosure time for five years from the date of completion.

Frank considered it a reasonable deal, and neither Juan nor Chance could come up with any objections. Although Merc's Metamorphs did not usually get involved in political affairs, they agreed that they would take their first mission to destabilize a national government. They would do the task in order to protect their identities (and for, as Chance put it, 'a fuck-ton of cash'). Of course, travel to Santagua was a far cry from making their way to the midwest, and that required some thought.

In the end, Frank decided that the three of them would skip out Friday morning. Considering the methods of travel avaialble to them, Merc would use his transportation abilities to get them as far south as possible in two hour's time on Friday, then again on Saturday. With some careful calculations, Chance acknowledged that they could probably make Panama but the Metamorph transportation timeline would be cut close.

It would be significantly easier getting from Panama to Santagua on day two, but Juan raised a very good question. "What are we gonna do if we get stopped? Fake US drivers licenses are one thing, but we don't have anyone who can fake passports... do we?"

Frank shrugged. "Well... it won't matter if we get spotted in Metamorph form..."

Juan was not convinced. "Yeah? Well people aren't going to bother us at Metamorphs, but they MIGHT for the remaining 22 hours of the day, Frank... What about dealing with THAT? How're we supposed to rent motel rooms, or deal with the police, or, god forbid, what if we need to visit a consulate?"

Chance weighed in. "Hey-- if The Chessmaster wants this job done that bad--"

Frank scowled. "We don't KNOW it's The Chessmaster. Whoever sent the job identified themselves as The Rook, so--"

His boyfriend waved away the objection. "WHATEVER! If whoever's sending us down there wants it bad enough, tell em we want resources. Tell em to get us some fake passports or something otherwise there's no way we'll be able to get it done."

It was a crazy idea and, in Frank's mind was pushing their employer further with more demands but, in that moment, with few other options he was willing to give it a shot. He typed out a quick text from his Merc phone saying that they needed some fake IDs that could pass casual inspection by Central and South American authorities. After sending it, Frank began to second-guess himself, right up until he got a response. The text reply only contained three words: OPEN YOUR DOOR.

Heading to the hallway door, Frank opened it, only to find a manila envelope fall into their dorm room from where it was leaning against the door. He glanced both ways down the hall and saw no one. Closing the door he opened the envelope and froze: there were three passports, three drivers licenses, and three credit cards.

Juan joined him a moment later. "What'cha got there, babe?"

Frank separated the details into three piles. "I... guess you're Pedro Juarez, I'm Miguel de Silva, and-- Hey! Chance! Whadda you think of the name Eddy White?"

Chance stood up from the sofa, leveling his gaze at Frank. "Is that a joke?"

In response, Frank held up the passport, ID and credit card. "Scary thing is, it has your birth date and place of birth right... mine too..."

Juan looked up from his own. "Me too."

Chance snatched his fake ID from Frank so he could look at it himself. "Who the fuck IS this guy?"

Juan quickly interjected "Or gal."

Frank wasn't looking for a politically correct discussion. "We have what we need, and we'll have time to figure out who our employer is later. Right now we need to focus on the task at hand. We have to get down to Santagua and back."

Juan 'hmmm'ed. "We get to Santagua on Saturday, then have Sunday to do the job. It's an in-service day on Monday, so no classes... and if we leave early we should be able to get back in time for classes on Tuesday."

Frank smirked. "Okay... four days of travel, and one day to destabilize a nation and overthrow the military leaders? Piece of cake."

Chance rolled his eyes. "Okay, rockstar... good to be optimistic and all, but I hope you have a plan."

Juan let out a 'heh'. "Only one plan? Let's have some contingencies, yeah?"

Frank stuffed the fake documents into his jeans, winking at both his boyfriends before turning to Juan. "Claro que si."