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Chapter -8- Information Age

December 7, 7:30 pm PST BPI Complex Nightclub, San Francisco, California ...

** Eddie stood out front** of the burnt out establishment, text messaging on a new cell phone. His eyes lifted to Nevada on approach. His gaze narrowed.

"The boss be expecting you. Jus' keep yo' cracker ass away from my new phone," Eddie sneered. He stood up from the granite steps and took the door by the handle. To Reno's surprise, he held it open. Nevada ascended the concrete steps and went inside. Eddie shut the door and went up the staircase to the balcony above the entrance.

Inside, the club still displayed signs of the fire that nearly demolished the building last year. Reno pondered who Trajen butted heads with in the past to have his club burned.

His thoughts shifted to the time he met Trajen. The man, clouded in a shroud of mystery, once told Nevada he owed the ex-Inspector a debt. Tonight, the debt would be repaid in the form of information.

Reno looked around the empty dance floor. His eyes cut to the remains of the gnarled remains of the bar. His thoughts roamed back to the night he met the gangster boss. Trajen promised a debt to Reno for solving a homicide investigation in a manner that kept Trajen out of the spotlight. Any cop could have come in and had a field day three-ways-from-Sunday but Nevada did the job he was given due to the nature of the weirdness surrounding Trajen.

Reno, looking back on the issue knowing what he knows now, realized an unmistakable fact. Trajen had an ability. He was a freak just like Reno had now become.

Fact of the matter was, Reno didn't come to the BPI over a year ago to document an exposé. He came to solve a murder and thus earned Trajen's trust and, to a lesser extent, respect.

Nevada stopped in the main hall where a dance floor was under construction. He glanced around taking in all the damage and shook his head.

"I hear you've become quite the extraordinary man, Reno Nevada." The aloof voice floated down from above. Nevada glanced up at the balcony and nodded quietly. Trajen continued, adding, "After you left my place one of my boys saw you attacked. So I looked into everything I could find about you. I was interested to hear about the incident in front of Lucy's Café. I'm told the amateur cellphone footage on the television didn't do it justice."

"I didn't know it was on TV."

"Don't worry, your ability caused lens flair and messed with the autofocus. The media is calling you a hero. It's assumed you used flashbangs and earplugs. Did you know Lucy's brother was one of us? He died in The Scourge last August."

"Those people weren't there for me or for Lucy. They attacked JC Parker's daughter. Speaking of the owner, did she make it out of there?"

"I'm pleased you're curious about her. She lived. Almost everyone did. Only a single death. It's tragic every time a bystander is slain - caught in the crossfire between an attacker and one of our kind." Trajen leaned on the loft railing, watching the ex-cop down on the floor below. "I appreciate that you protected Lucy's diner from a mafia-hired assault. I'm also thankful that you kept Topaz Parker from being shot."

"What can you tell me about the hit, Trajen?"

"The attackers were identified as part of an OC mob family."

"I know enough not to tangle with organized crime organizations. But I couldn't let those guys waste the people at that diner."

"You did well, Mr. Nevada. Lucy carries an esoteric genome. Her children or grandchildren may be among the future of our kind."

"You really think we're all kin or something? Vampires and Superman, all one big family?"

"Superman was an alien," said Trajen with a slight smile. "And no, we had various groups broken down into something akin to ... shall we say ... political parties. Needless to say, I was given the full report on how you used your impressive ability to dismantle the attacking force in front of Lucy's Café and it was just as, shall we say, flashy as what you did the night you left my club on the fourth."

"That wasn't something I intended," Reno replied with a casual shrug. "Neither night was something I intended. What exactly did your little spy tell you?"

"He told me you were quite extraordinary. He said after you left the diner you took two bullets from a handgun and one from an M16 and all rounds passed through your body. He told me that you disappeared and then reappeared at least a third the length of a football field each time," Trajen recited. "What really interested me was a report that you threw one man into another at the café. I'm told you launched him on the end of a bolt of lightning that killed the other man."

"The man I threw," Reno said, shaking his head. He paused then glanced around for steps to the loft but saw none. He sighed and he continued his explanation. "His name was George Zukis. He's still alive and put a hit out on me."

"Mm, Zukis is a small fish," Trajen mused thoughtfully. "But a very motivated fish. He's also smarter than he appears, especially for being mafia muscle. I see big things in his future if he manages to stay alive." Trajen leaned over the balcony railing. "The mob certainly offers smart people the opportunity for advancement. What's the matter, can't find the staircase to get up here, Inspector?"

"Maybe it's a private elevator," Nevada assumed aloud. "Or maybe I have to go up those stairs outside. So, anyway, what's the connection? Zukis works for Krys Monroe who works for Aris Falcon. Who exactly is this Falcon character, anyway?"

"Find a way to ascend to the loft and we'll talk over scotch," Trajen said, turning away from the railing. At the back of the loft was a private bar and the man turned to face it. He only walked half way across the deck before stopping to glance over his shoulder. Reno stood directly behind him. He offered the ex-cop a sly grin and said, "I thought so."

"So you proved that you have people watching me, so what," Nevada grumbled, adjusting his tie. His suit was a stark contrast from Trajen. Nevada's was a black Calvin Kline with a burgundy tie over a charcoal black shirt and Gucci wingtip shoes. Trajen on the other hand wore a simpler white piece, somewhat reminiscent of the Al Pacino portrayal of Scar Face. Black and white tie and a rose on his lapel - very cliché. "You know, you're a little too typical so far as gangster's go. Are you OC or OG?"

"I have a small niche carved out somewhere between. It's the life I grew into. Had you seen me in 1992 you would not have recognized me. I'm more refined since then. People judge what is fashionable by what they see on television. I do my homework so I don't disappoint their expectations."

"I get it, now. You were in a street gang as a kid, huh? Then your ability manifested. You rose to the top of the pack without calling supernatural attention to yourself. Then you made your name in the information market so that people would not notice whatever it is that makes you special. So now you know I do the lightning thing, huh? And that means what? That you have dirt on me? That you have information to sell if someone asks about me? What're you going to tell them? That I'm the new Zeus?"

Trajen turned his gaze back towards the bar. "I do not venerate your abilities. They were not part of the greater plan. You were not part of any plan. You are an anomaly. But our community has been decimated. There isn't enough of us left to investigate where you came from or why you have abilities."

"So it's controlled? Or passed down in blood?"

"Both. There have been rumors that some abilities have been passed down in a controlled method, gifted to recipients. But there's no proof of such rumors. What's accounted for has been passed down through genetics. Occasionally, there will be a mutation in abilities from two Houses, creating an oddity, like the glass blower boy. He has an unrefined version of molecular manipulation. But he only has control over one main medium. Silica into glass and back. Think of a weak ability as a mutt. Yet he's survived The Scourge. He's acted aggressively to protect others and proven himself in combat against opponents."

Reno smirked. "People who are at a disadvantage often compensate by being more motivated than the average guy. So I wasn't supposed to have abilities?"

"No. Your brother is actually a half-brother. He's supposed to have an ability. You're not."

"Wait, what? Vin had a different father?"

"Mother actually. The woman who raised you was your stepmother. We watched her for quite some time. She never manifested an ability, but her father was from one of the oldest Houses in the Esoteric Community, the Myrell family. They became quite influential in the eighteenth and nineteenth century. And so far as your ability ... the truth is, Mr. Nevada, you should have died when that lightning bolt hit you on the rooftop of Pages Lost, Inspector." Trajen took two glasses and filled both with an expensive scotch then brought one of the glasses to Reno, passing it to him. The mobster glanced back at Reno, saw his expression and said, "Yes I know about that. I have no idea how you survived but it's obviously done something to you. Which begs the question, was your father from an Esoteric line? Are you a mutation? Why did Krys Monroe, whose ability is merely to sense people, overlook you leading up to The Scourge?"

"I don't know but that's her mistake. And now I plan on dishing out some karmic justice on her ass."

"Mm, which brings me to your request. I looked into the story behind Aris Falcon. Are you planning to kill him?"

"Why, is he a competitor of yours?" Nevada snorted disdainfully. He took the liquor into his right hand and took a sip. Smooth as silk; it had a bite like fire.

Trajen glanced around furtively. He offered a smug grin. "As a matter of fact, he is someone who is putting his drugs onto my streets. I take offense to the Government funding someone who deals on my turf," Trajen explained.

"Government?" Reno repeated, raising his brows. "The DEA is trying to go after him. So how is the government funding him?"

"Was. Needless to say, Mr. Nevada, that's the beauty of conspiracy. Avoid that little detail and go do what you need to do to this Aris Falcon character." Trajen spoke in a soft, intelligent-sounding tone of voice. "You must want him dead quite badly."

"Why would I? It was his little whore, Monroe, who got me suspended," Reno said, taking another sip of the scotch.

"He's killed someone very close to you; I'm surprised you didn't know this," Trajen said with an air of sympathy in his voice at the end of his statement. He lifted his glass then announced, "Let us drink to the death of the man who has wronged you, Reno Nevada."

Reno balked. "You have concrete proof he killed Nichole?" Up until now, he only had the daydream back in Golden Gate Park. Nevada pursed his lips in an attempt to maintain his temper and listen carefully. This was personal and he wanted to know everything he could find out about Falcon first before attacking. A vendetta had to be carefully planned.

"If you're referring to your ex-betrothed then the answer is ... I don't know," Trajen replied softly. The gangster, whose last name no one could seem to remember, frowned thoughtfully then set his drink down on a standing-room table. He turned to Nevada and folded his hands, shaking his head sadly. "I'm shocked you didn't know and I'm sorry to be the one to tell you. You see," Trajen suddenly found himself cut off by Reno.

"Just get on with it. If I'm going to get there sometime tonight, I need to know everything I can."

The mobster nodded sullenly, reaching to pat Nevada's shoulder. He motioned to a nearby chair and so Reno sat in it.

Trajen cleared his throat. "He's working on several different things. It began as experiments to learn how to clone parts of human beings so that he could rebuild himself. The grant was for him to learn how to rebuild a soldier with better lungs, a faster immune system and stronger muscles. Imagine a heart that could beat with a bullet in it and things of that nature. My source says his funds come from several directions, all Government. However, my source was only able to confirm Falcon's ties to the super soldier program."

"Why is he in the drug scene?"

"Falcon is spending far more money than he's making from his Government funding. He's very good at covering his tracks. The financiers who covered his artifact hunting operation were all killed at gunpoint in a bank robbery in South Africa."

"Get on with it. Please."

"He pays mercenaries to chase down the Esoteric Community. He is funding excavations around the globe to find artifacts, some of which are mythical. He also has a project out in the Atlantic Ocean. He's crafted a drug that has become a hit on the streets. The chemical composition makes it difficult to create, so he's the sole distributer. Last but not least, he's heading the super soldier program since the late 90's."

"Yeah, go on," Nevada insisted. "Who has he killed? Give me a reason to hate this guy even more than Nichole did."

"He started his operation in New York, then moved to LA. Now he's in San Francisco. He has been taking people off the streets." He trailed off, rolling his hand in a motioning manner as if looking for the right way to word his next statement.

"What, like homeless people?"

"Not always. They were..." He held his hand outward, looking for a delicate way to talk to Reno. Finally Trajen decided on a blunt approach and said, "They became experiments. Often times, they became victims of his experiments. There is a fairly long list of names."

"Names? They're not John Does?"

"No, Mr. Nevada. I'm afraid many of his victims had established, traceable identities. And one name really bothered me. A descendant of Jarth Myrell. So I checked into it and my hunch was correct. He was listed as 'killed' ... the kid's name was Vincent Nevada."

Reno grew silent. He turned away and glanced out over the construction area. His eyes grew cold and his hands balled up into fists. He saw a brief flashback of the man in black clothes standing over Vincent's body; the same vision that prophesized Nichole's death. He relived the brief daydream he experienced back at Golden Gate Park.

"Mr. Nevada?"

Reno finally managed to find his voice and asked, "Are you sure?"

"I bribe very well," Trajen conceded. "I know I owe you a favor and I didn't want to just blurt out something so very personal without absolute proof. It happened a while back, a few weeks ago. The young man left out of his Honda Service shop behind the dealership. There was a key ring found by his abandoned civic up on the road."

Reno swallowed back his emotions. "Civic ... Vincent drove a Civic."

Trajen approached Reno from behind and offered up a pair of house keys. "I'm told the car key was taken off the ring."

Nevada turned about and took the keys into his hand, examining them. "Vin's house keys," the Inspector choked. "I know for a fact, police couldn't find the car ... so whoever you bribed brought you these as proof?"

"That is correct," Trajen replied. "If Falcon was also responsible for Nichole Parker's disappearance, I'm sorry. Aris Falcon has powerful friends. I don't know much about the DEA case to bring him down but subsidiaries of the Federal Government are definitely funding this man." He paused but Reno said nothing. Trajen cleared his throat. "Mr. Nevada?"

"Drugs, artifact thefts, private army, kidnapping and murder, genetic experiments and a super soldier program. I'm following you. Keep talking."

"Very well. I'll give you one more bit of information as a freebee. One of my best men has learned that Falcon is the origin of the strange epidemic that has been going around; if you recall, Jon Parker was the first to die from it. The people falling victim are not random. They're targeted. It's a strain of virus that mutates. Once you get it, you can't get it again but you'll hope to God that you'd have caught the earliest possible strain. By now it's mutated into pure hell. The survivors are being monitored for strange behavior. I don't know much more than that yet."

"Chemical warfare on top of everything else? Who is this asshole?"

"My current concern is that this man creates his own style of drug and it's becoming the new fashion. Get this man off my streets and avenge your younger brother. Unfortunately, I hear he's out of town tonight."

Reno clenched the keys in his fist so tightly his knuckles turned white. "I've got to find Topaz Parker; she knows something about this creep. I'm going to find Falcon's laboratory and I'm going to tear the place apart. First my girl, then my brother. Then my lifestyle and my job. And now my car. The list just keeps piling up. I _really_hate when people make a mess in my city."

Trajen nodded and replied in a soft tone, empathetic of Reno's anguish, and keenly aware not to trigger his new abilities. "Dr. Falcon has delusions of grandeur and claims he's on the brink of learning how to become a god through God. Kill him, Nevada. It will make a lot of lives easier."

"I'm not one of your assassins," Reno snapped.

"You're no hit man," Trajen agreed. "But with him out of the way things will return to normal and the people who are under his influence will soon forget about his money and manipulation. Then you're free to get your job back and properly mourn your family loss."

"Falcon is in over his head," Reno explained. "Yeah, I'm going to bring his ass down but I need more answers before I run in there like an idiot. Thanks, Trajen. We're even and I appreciate this."

"You were never here." Trajen finished the scotch then folded his arms. "Go on. Don't use the front door, either."

"Whatever," Reno muttered. His body tensed then a flash of electro-charge pulsed through him. A burn mark appeared on a window across from the balcony. In the blink of an eye, Nevada was outside, stalking in the direction of the docks.

His thoughts turned to Topaz Parker. Something told him that she knew more about Falcon than she originally explained. Maybe it was his cop instincts and maybe it was a flutter of whatever was left of Abby's hex. He couldn't be sure; he just had a gut feeling he'd have to find her.

Reno pulled out his personal cell and texted Karla with, 'I'm leaving, now. Need that ride. Are you close?'

X

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X

** Karla glanced at the cellphone then** rubbed her forehead. She thumbed the phone screen, replying to Reno Nevada's text. She leaned back in the seat of the rental car with a soft groan. "God."

Lance tilted his head at her. "Are you getting motion sick? You don't drive often, after all."

Karla shook her head. "No, no that's not it. I drove for a hundred years before mastering teleportation." She slid her fingers to her temples then back to her forehead.

"I stand corrected."

"That's right, buster. I've been driving since 1907. Nathan taught me." She slapped the phone, causing it to curl around her forearm. With a sigh, she brought both of her hands back to either side of her forehead. "It's like an 'ice cream headache' but with images."

"Should I call Steven? You're lucky he survived in August. He's the world's leading doctor for supernatural persons."

"It's a freaking headache with pictures, not super cancer."

"Alright, fine. I understand. Why don't you tell me more about these headaches, Karla?"

She heard him reply but his words seemed muffled as the rush of images flooded her head. "I used to wake up with headaches after an intense, reoccurring dream." Karla murmured aloud, "Then, back on the 20th of November, I started having these headaches while I'm awake. Not sure if it's somehow related or if something changed but damn."

"Where's the pain, exactly?"

"It's in my forehead and there's another ache above the roof of my mouth. I can't really describe where it hurts better than that. Just give me a minute. It never lasts long; it'll pass."

Her eyes rolled up into her head and she clenched her eyelids shut. Meanwhile, she continued to rub at her forehead, muttering from the pain...

Karla felt a weird sensation in her stomach. Ambient sound was muddled. It felt natural to swallow; her ears popped and the sound of panic, all around her, became clear.

Something bumped into her shoulder. She glanced down at a bulky gray Toshiba Satellite Pro laptop. Its carrying bag was stuck in some sort of compartment above her head. The laptop fell to the ground, at her feet, lying on a bluish-gray carpet, with the screen open. She saw the model number, '460CDX', and above was an 'Intel Inside Pentium-with-MMX' sticker. Above that, another sticker read, 'Designed for Microsoft Windows NT and Windows95.' She stared at the laptop for a moment; it looked new.

Her eyes lifted, seeing panic ... a crowd of people. The sensation of sadness swept over her and her eyes locked on a pretty woman, hiding in the embrace of a man. For some reason, Karla felt as though she recognized the woman. The succubus turned around, facing a man's shoulder and neckline. Her eyes lifted ... and all at once the memory faded, the pain ended and the headache disappeared.

Karla sat there, behind the wheel, her heart racing and tears trickling down her cheeks. She gasped for breath as if having just surfaced from deep water. "Jesus..."

"What?" Lance's voice startled her. She blinked and turned to him. "It's always a little more each time. I saw some woman and I think I recognized her from somewhere. I remember something fell on me from above. I looked down and it was a laptop. But not a recent one. Like, you know, an old twelve-inch gray dinosaur. Like, mid-nineties. I think I saw a model number. Toshiba 460, and there were three letters. It was old."

"Hard to believe," Lance murmured.

"What is?" she asked, incredulous.

"Just that laptops back then were twenty-six hundred dollars and people ran out and bought them. Now people complain that a MacBook starts at a thousand dollars and they claim it's a luxury price tag. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to interrupt you. What else happened?"

She leered at him for a moment then smirked. "You're trying to say something I would typically say to try and help me with my mood swing, aren't you?"

"Is it working?"

"It's out of character for you, Lance." Her smirk softened to a weak smile. She brought a hand just above her breast. "I remember feeling a lot of grief and guilt. I mean ... my chest is still in knots. I was going to throw up. I was so sad and ... the emotions didn't happen in the last couple of flashbacks ... or ... what_ever_ they are."

"You think they might be flashbacks of something? Not a premonition?"

"I'm not sure. They feel real. And this is the first time I've ever felt anguish associated with it. Something terrible. Could it be a repression thing? I thought that sort of crap was psychobabble but ... everything I saw, everything I heard - it all felt real."

"How did it end?"

"I turned to face someone standing right next to me. I saw his shoulder, I looked up and then it ended. I remember that the skin of his neckline was white. So whoever stood next to me was a white guy."

"Do you think this had something to do with what I spoke about before your text message?"

"I, uhm..." She shrugged. "What were you saying before Reno's text came through?"

"I was telling you that I'm going to be flying to Indonesia in the morning. I'm only staying for the afternoon then I'm headed back stateside. I have a lockbox at a bank I need to retrieve."

"I don't know if that has anything to do with my headaches. Sometimes they seem random to me. So, what's going on that you need this lockbox right away? How long has it been there?"

"I put it there in 1997. It belonged to the Asian Grand Justicar who passed away that December. I recall it was a few days before the Christmas holiday. The night I put it in the bank, someone broke into the vault to find it."

"Wait, someone stole that artifact the night you hid it in a bank?"

"No. I took precautions. I signed out three security boxes in my name and one in a fake name. That night, the three boxes in my name were broken into. Nothing worthwhile was taken. I decided to leave the important security box - the one under the fake name - because moving it might attract attention to it."

"Wait, you kept this artifact at the same bank, knowing that the vault could be compromised so easily?"

"Karla, all it takes is someone with an ability similar to your own. I can only think of one man ... and your friend Marcus took him down in 1999."

"I told you not to bring his name up, like, back in August. So why did you leave this object at that bank after all these years?"

"I decided to leave it hidden right where it was, because whoever tried stealing it and found my three empty boxes wouldn't have any reason to return to the same location. But, that was over twenty-five years ago. It's time to move it again. Have you ever been to Indonesia?"

"Yeah, I believe so. Donovan and I smelled Kretek smoke on some of Falcon's mercenaries a few months ago and I recognized it. I can't recall being there, I just remember spending some time among the Javanese at one point a number of years ago. I, uh, hate to admit it, but my memory isn't what it used to be since Marcus died. Seems like there's a big blurry hole of emotional fog hanging over my life in the late 90's. God I loved that boy."

"I know, Karla. I know. Anyhow, I need you to drop me off at the airport before you go anywhere else tonight."

Karla frowned. "I wanted you to meet Reno."

"It's best, at this point, if we speak over FaceTime or Skype. Or, better yet, a phone. I'm on a time-table."

"Then..." Karla reached for the ignition and turned the engine over. "Why not just have me teleport you to the airport? Huh? Why use a rental car?"

"Because I'm hoping that I'm being watched. It's a long story. Just drop me off in Millbrae near the airport before you pick up Reno, please." Lance leaned over and kissed the side of her face. "I appreciate your help. Also, don't tell anyone what I've told you about that safe security deposit box. And if you have any other 'flashbacks' I would be interested in learning more about them." He paused, offered a slight smile and said, "And let me know when I'm back in your circle of trust. I'm being honest with you about what I'm doing, after all."

"Yeah, fine. I need to think about that whole trust thing for right now." She took a deep breath to calm her frayed nerves, put the rental car into gear then checked her windows and eased forward.

"There's one more thing, Karla."

She flipped on a blinker, moved into an empty lane and eased into the accelerator. "Christ, now what?"

"I spoke to Dayinera."

"Who?"

"You know her as YiaYia, but I knew her when she was younger ... before she went by the Greek word for 'grandma.' Her name is Dayinera, spelled with an 'I' and an 'E.' She's currently sharing her home with one of the last female werewolves known to exist. Úlfey is pregnant. So, Dayinera has been preoccupied living up to her nickname. But she took a moment from her busy schedule to call me. She told me about a phone call that would concern you. She also told me you would need to travel to Florida, then head out to an island off the coast. She gave me coordinates and told me that you would be meeting friends there."

Kuda stood up in the backseat of the rental car and hopped up between the seats, standing on the center console. He looked up at Karla expectantly.

"What is it baby-boy? Do you have to go outside or something?"

The miniature fox didn't respond.

She grinned at the little pet. "He usually rings a bell with his nose when he has to do his business. He uses a litter box on the yacht."

"Karla. Focus. You need to aid some of our allies out on this island. Actually, come to think of it, the oracle said your pet would be able to find them."

"Oh yeah?" She lifted her knee, holding the steering wheel stable then put her hands on either side of Kuda's face and playfully smooshed the cheeks of his maw together. "Are you gonna help momma find our new buddies, baby-boy?"

The fox opened its maw and panted briefly then sneezed. He shook his head rapidly from left to right then sneezed again. Karla giggled softly and put her hands back on the wheel.

Lance cleared his throat. "Now, at the time I didn't know you were having these migraines. Are you going to be alright to travel?"

"I'll be fine, Lance. Where am I going?"

"The phone call that Dayinera mentioned was from Eric Loupe. Thirty minutes after I hung up with her, Eric called me looking for you and I gave him your cellphone."

Karla's eyes widened. "Yeah? Is he okay?" She paused, adding two and two. "Why'd he call you? He's not back in Africa is he?"

"He may have been there, actually. I'm not sure. He's currently in Bermuda. He was with two mundanes, one of which gave him my cell number. That one has left for Washington DC. Eric currently still has one of the mundanes with him. He needs you. For the oracle to let me know of his call before it happened means one thing."

She nodded, shifting her weight to get comfortable in the driver's seat. "That it's significant."

"Exactly. I'm not yet sure why. Dayinera didn't have details in regards to that."

"Day ... in ... era. Her name sounds like a post hardcore metal band."

"Her name means destroyer."

"Perfect first album title."

Lance frowned in reply. "I cannot understand your love for heavy music."

"I don't know how to explain it. I couldn't stand chamber music. Big band was fun at the time, but the heavier modern music became, the more I fell in love with it. So, YiaYia said Eric would call looking for me, which he did. Why are you so protective of her anyway? Your mood changes whenever you talk about YiaYia."

He frowned thoughtfully. "A number of years ago, she had a premonition about her husband. She prophesized that he would find an artifact from the First Age times that would unite the Esoteric Community sects. She even told him where to find it and how to obtain it."

"What happened?"

"Simply holding it drove him insane. He became someone else entirely. She asked for my help in killing him. It pained her greatly, and it was very hard on her to act on something for which she was responsible."

"So she needed your help to clean up her mess?"

"It wasn't something that went as planned. She had to slay her husband because of what he became due to a vision she revealed to him. While she's a lively and spirited lady, she had a very difficult past and I was with her when she went through it."

"Oh. Jesus. I can't even have a relationship. That's heartbreaking to think of throwing one away like that."

"Karla she didn't throw it away!"

"Okay, I'm sorry. I was being insensitive. Let's change the topic. What's the plan for me going forward?"

"Before you pick up Eric and bring him back to California, I want you to look into this island that Dayinera mentioned. I'll leave it up to you if you wish to accept the company of his mundane traveling companion."

"Lance, don't call non-supernatural people that. It makes you sound racist."

"I am not racist. It's a simple term that accurately describes people who have no abilities."

"It means 'boring.' You're referring to people without abilities as boring. I love natural humans."

"The word is an adjective meaning 'ordinary.' Natural, normal, mundane Homo sapiens are ordinary. Why are you so quick to argue with me all the time? Besides, they're food to you."

"God, Lance. You _are_racist. So, what do you know about Eric's companion?"

"She was highly sought after by Aris Falcon. She tried to publish a dissertation regarding historical proof of Esoteric people. The right people ensured that this paper never saw the light of day. Now, back to the task at hand. I'll give you coordinates. I want you to investigate and find these allies and I want you to keep everyone together. Explore the island. Find out whatever you can about it. Come back with information about Falcon's operation."

"Wait, Eric's pal is a female?"

"Yes. Please tell me that's not the only thing you got out of my instructions."

Karla frowned thoughtfully. "Kuda sniffs out our allies, we bring back information on Falcon's operation. We all make it back safely and come up with a plan. I dunno why, but I really hope he's not sleeping with her."

He drew his cellphone out and texted Karla with coordinates. "Can you read shipping coordinates?"

"Yes, Lance. I know nautical navigation. I've been around for a while. When do I leave?"

"As soon as you've dropped Reno Nevada off. Call Fox, have him arrange a private jet to get you to Florida as soon as possible. From there, you'll have to teleport out to the island. Have Fox take Dramamine so he doesn't get sick from your rapid teleportation."

"Okay, okay. I still want you to meet Reno, though. I think he can help our cause."

"Fine. Arrange a phone conversation when you pick him up."

X

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December 7 8:55 pm PST Pacific Heights, San Francisco, California

** "Here we are, Inspector. Closest hotel to the Parker Mansion.** Are you sure you don't want to stay on my boat with me?" asked Karla. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel of the rental car. "Just consider it."

"Maybe later. But I need to work out the kinks first. I don't want to blow up your yacht."

She smiled, turning off the car. "That's thoughtful, Reno. But there's someone I want you to talk to, first." Karla pulled the keys from the ignition and put them into the cup holder. She withdrew her cellphone from around her wrist, dialed a number then put the phone into 'speaker' mode and held it out towards Reno.

Kuda placed his small paws on her bicep, which slid to the inside of her elbow. He leaned down from her shoulder, sniffed the phone, then scurried back up to her shoulder and settled.

A voice answered. Karla grinned. "Lance. I have someone I want you to meet. Oh, and what you asked about earlier... I thought about it. I still can't let you into my circle of trust just yet but only because I have to be careful. I'm sure you understand that I'm trying to keep my ass alive. Moving on! I'm here with Reno Nevada who has somehow inherited the same abilities as..."

"...From 'The Reaper' yes, I heard. Facinating."

"Hey," Reno said softly.

"Salutations," said the man on the phone. "Let's start by inquiring into what you know of your ability and yourself. Karla's elderly friend was deeply curious about the science behind his ability and it was a joy to hold a conversation with him in regards to his ability's evolution. What do you understand about entanglement?"

"Pardon?" Reno glanced up at Karla then back at the phone.

"Entanglement is a quantum mechanical correlation between the spins of electrons. If you don't follow, then let me ask you this: What electrical abilities have manifested so far?"

"Uh. Well, I can mess up electronic devices when I get near'em. I can break them if I touch'em. I can short'em out by proximity. Having car troubles, y'know? And, a little while ago, I was holding my cellphone and it showed on the screen that it was charging while it was in my hand. But a few days ago, I fried one belonging to someone else. It's not consistent."

"Ah, yes. With the proper mood to help regulate amperage, voltage, and wattage, you charged your phone battery by means of induction. Obviously your phone was designed to sit on an induction charger in order for you to charge it with touch. Anything else? Please excuse the pun associated with the terms, but ... I'd rather you focus on the positive side-effects, not the negative ones."

Nevada paused to think then added, "I teleported when I was shot at. I think it was an accident."

Karla grinned and cut into the conversation. "The old man referred to teleportation as 'Riding the Lightning.' With a little practice, you could go long distances at high voltage."

Reno furrowed his brows and rubbed his whisker scruff. "You mean, like, if I stood on a tall building, I could strike the ground as an actual bolt of lightning?"

"Yes, quite so," Lance replied. "Excellent. I was worried you may have been daft. Or have no imagination. Yes, you're correct. You would appear standing at the center of the scorch mark. Find something that conducts electricity and you can probably travel further. Just imagine traveling by power lines across the city. Oh, but that's not all. You should be able to throw lightning bolts, create a contained bolt of pure lightning and use it as a weapon, create an energy shield, a static bubble ... you can even create a bridge over a gap."

"I don't follow that last one."

"When you threw the man in front of Lucy's Café. There was a lightning bolt between yourself and his body when you hurled his body at the other attackers."

"I think I see what you mean by bridging a gap."

"Moving on," Karla mused.

Lance cleared his throat over the line. "Reno, did you ever throw water balloons as a kid? Consider plasma grenades at your disposal. The possibilities are quite extensive, limited only by your imagination."

"Christ. So how did I get this guy's power?"

"Not sure. I have a theory you were given the ability."

"I've been told that gifting an ability is a myth."

"No, just rare. Many are born with their ability, and it manifests at some point in their life. But you are one to have contact with the only other person in recent years that has control over electricity. I don't believe in coincidence. I believe in numbers."

Reno looked up at Karla. "Do you know what he's talking about?"

"Not really. I don't remember how the old man died. It's probably best that way. He and I go way back. I don't wanna remember that sort of stuff. We were besties. I think I must block things out when I get particularly emotional, I don't know."

"Oh. Wait, I remember the old man." Reno snapped his fingers. "Out by the Sacramento Vortac tower. It's a little blurry but it happened last September."

"If you say so, Top Cop."

Lance cleared his throat then said, "Mister Nevada, I suggest you research electricity. The last man to have this ability was very wise with it. But whether this was gifted to you or not, two facts remain. Number one, Krys Monroe didn't single you out by sensing your ability when she hunted your brother."

"Wait, she's the one behind Vincent's disappearance?"

"Let me finish," said Lance over the line in a firm tone. "As I was saying, we have to assume Monroe sensed you were a mundane human being. This leads me to number two: You received your gift recently - but when, I cannot be sure. Typically an ability needs time to manifest, and you only met The Reaper back in September. I have to wonder, Mr. Nevada ... did anything happen to you that would cause an accelerated manifestation?"

Reno took a long, deep breath, rubbed his eyes, then said, "It's hard to follow you, man. Look, I kinda' get what you're saying. I know what caused me to do this crap ... I was electrocuted. There was this busted AC unit covered in rain. I was thrown onto it and then a bolt of lightning struck me. The thing I don't get is why lightning struck the rooftop twice, especially when there were no lightning rods up there."

Lance's voice changed, making it sound as though he spoke with a wan smile. "Reno Nevada ... lightning struck that rooftop because it was attracted to you. If you were anything like the old man, you were the lightning rod. Get it?"

"Yeah, I got it. So how do I do all that fancy stuff you mentioned?"

"It doesn't take a mathematical genius to figure out the answer to that question, Mr. Nevada. You practice! But research what you've become. It will increase the understanding of your ability and allow you to increase your ability. You are only limited by your knowledge and imagination."

"Yeah? How so."

"Research, young man. Know what you're capable of. Karla, what's the most amazing thing you've seen the old man do with his ability?"

She ran her fingers back through her hair. "He touched one guy. That guy's hair stood on end. He shoved the guy into his buddies. All their hair stood on end. Then the old man attacked the first guy, and the whole group of men died, all the same way, from across the room."

Lance cleared his throat over the line. "...Really? I wasn't aware that quantum entanglement worked on a macro level. That's impressive."

Reno rubbed his forehead. "Jesus. I can do all that?"

"If you practice. Karla, I also made some calls after last we spoke. I did some tracking for you. And, yes, your friend Eric wound up back in Africa. I tried to track him but he boarded a private jet headed across the Atlantic. He apparently woke up in Bermuda with no memories of the past week."

"Jesus. Poor Eric."

"I have a friend trying to pull FAA records but we cannot verify if he's headed back to America or not. Our only lead to his location has been the oracle. When you find him, you'll have to help him. Excuse me for a moment." Lance paused and the background noise became muffled.

"God, I really feel like I need to get my butt in Florida. So I can find Eric. So I can find these people that Eric says are allies."

Reno rubbed his forehead. "I, uh... I think the lady with the fire will be there. I'm not sure why. I've been having trouble with my head mojo. It's turning into something else. Abby said that's normal right before it wears off. But I thought of this woman with long orange hair who can set things on fire."

Kuda hopped from Karla's shoulder to the center console and padded along the gearshift. He put his front paws on the shifter and sniffed at the phone again. He opened his little maw and yapped at Reno.

Karla furrowed her brows. "I, uh ... huh. I've never heard him bark like that before. I wonder if he knows the fire chick."

Nevada rubbed the scruff on his chin. "Karla, are you serious? His brain is the size of a grape. A strawberry at best. He doesn't have an opinion on..."

Kuda turned back to Reno, yapped twice, then sat on his haunches, back against the shifter. He turned his head to Karla and his ears perked up.

"Do you know the fire lady with orange hair? One bark for yes. Two for no."

To Karla's amusement, Kuda answered with a single bark.

"Karla..."

"Okay, fine, Reno. Let's have a control in this test. Kuda? Now I want you to bark _twice_if you think I should head to the east coast to search for Eric and the fire lady."

Kuda's left ear flickered listlessly. He opened his tiny maw and barked twice.

"I ... wow. I didn't expect that to work. Well, you see now?"

A few seconds later, in a serious tone, Lance came back over the line and said, "Karla, be safe. Mr. Nevada, it was a pleasure talking to you. We'll meet one day in the future. Excuse me please - the both of you, I have to go. Take care." The call disconnected abruptly.

Reno and Karla looked at one another but neither spoke. Karla slapped her cellphone onto her wrist, causing it to connect like a bangle. She took Nevada by the wrist and withdrew a bottle of spring water from one of the many cup holders in the rental car. She poured it on his hand then leaned away ... nothing happened.

"Uh, that was random."

"Just checking to see if you can get wet without shorting out. Go take a shower, hot water always calms my nerves." She reached into the glove box and withdrew a small plastic apparatus and attached it to the top of the water bottle. She tossed it in the backseat.

Kuda dashed between them. The pint-sized fox hopped into the backseat and closed his muzzle over an end of the apparatus. He chewed on it, drawing water out of the bottle.

Reno glanced back over his shoulder at the miniature fox. "Nice. Thanks. You telling me I stink, or something? Heh. For your information, I already knew water wouldn't hurt me. I took a shower before coming out this evening. Anyhow, I'm going to go find a place to stay, because I don't want to inconvenience my friend. Besides, he still works for the police and I don't want them to find out that he's helping me."

Karla reached over to the glove compartment, pulled out a brick of cash and handed it to him. "Security deposit. The more you help me, the more I'll help you. Consider this level two of trust building."

Nevada took the money, thumbing the edges of the bills. "Alright. I appreciate it. I'll be in contact with you. I'm not sure how. I can't use a cellphone."

"I'll tail you. Then you can relax and I'll show up, and, if you're nice to me, maybe you can 'tail' me. Now, go get yourself a place and take a hot shower. Don't get emotional, though. If you spark up, it will transfer through the pipes and electrocute anyone else using water in the building. Stay away from your old apartment. You're in unofficial witness protection for right now."

"Thanks Karla. I promise I'll check into a hotel."

"Alright. Use some of that money to bribe your way into getting a room without having to produce your ID. If you can't be traced, you can't be followed."

"Clever girl. See you around, then."

"By the way, I need a favor."

"Yeah?"

"When you find Topaz please send her my way. Fox and I miss her. I want to start closing ranks and pulling everyone together. The whole 'strength in numbers' thing."

"I understand. I haven't seen her since the incident at the diner. Where do you suggest I look?"

"Fox says to check the house. There are supplies there. She's been away for a while and probably needs to stock up. He also says it's her way of drawing out anyone who might be tailing her."

"I'll start there. If I see her, I'll tell her you guys want her back."

"Fox thinks she's tying up loose ends."

Reno opened the car door. "The mansion is on my list of things to check out tomorrow. I'll be in touch. Thanks again for the help." He stepped out of the rental and began walking.

Now he had a ton on his mind. Everything Trajen told him about the attacks, about Falcon and about his brother. He also pondered what he learned from Karla's friend over the phone. If he could focus and harness his ability, he might be able to use it to get even with some of the people who have wronged him. Then it could become more helpful than a hindrance.

He decided a good night sleep at the local hotel was what he really needed at this point. Reno rubbed his bald head and sighed over the loss of his hair. He could go over to the Parker Mansion tomorrow. Nine o'clock, and he was already ready for bed.

Something told him tomorrow was going to be the start of something even bigger. He stuffed his hand into his pocket, fished out a small blister pack with two Benadryl and popped them into his mouth. He swallowed them with backwash and took a deep breath. "Okay, let's be calm tonight so I don't blow up the hotel TV and lamps." He crossed a parking lot and approached the main entrance to a swanky place with fancy carpeting in the lobby.

All the emotions he usually stowed were bubbling to the surface and he was exhausted and in need of a drink. He reached into his jacket and ran his thumb over the brick of cash. For some reason, it made him feel a little better.

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Next chapter: https://www.sofurry.com/view/646201