Chapter #5Diana's Doppelgangers by: Seuzz   Previously: "Fortunate Son" 
"I'd bet anything she noticed," you say, and take a drag on the cigarette. You lightly scratch a spot on your smoothly shaved pate. "The old bat is sharp, nothing wrong with her mind, and she won't miss the fact that she was sitting on her sofa with a dazed expression for almost an hour. She might have even noticed the thoughts she was thinking. We can't be sure how that thing works."
You point at the mask on the table, behind which sit your three supervisors: Professor Jameson Hyde-White; Julian Dey; and Steve Patterson. You sit on the other side, legs crossed. You're in camo pants, combat boots, and a tank top. Tattoos cover both arms and most of your torso. You wear a fingerless glove on your left hand, covering the single tattoo in the middle of your palm. Obviously, none of your old friends from Westside would recognize you, even though you still have the face of William Martin Prescott. But your physique is far bigger; and if Steve Patterson tried giving you grief, you could kick his ass and tie his legs around his neck without breaking a sweat.
Not that he'd give you grief; every chance you get between missions you do a pub crawl with him. Sometimes the two of you end up with three women to play with in his apartment; sometimes you each get your own; sometimes you have to share; and if you're feeling especially mischievous, sometimes it's just you and him trying to break the bed springs.
Over half-rim glasses Professor Hyde-White studies your report; Dey glances between his copy and the mask; Patterson looks at you with a bemused half smile.
"But you saw no evidence that she knew of this enchantment upon her?" Hyde-White asks. He keeps his eyes down, reading.
"No. I spent most of my time chasing it down, to see what it was, whether she knew about it, whether she could block it."
"And your conclusion was--?"
"Beats me, probably not, and who knows?"
Hyde-White gives you a sour look.
"If the Libra made that mask," you say, "the spell is on the other side of that maelstrom. She doesn't know anything about masks. Can she block it?" You make a face. "She knows lots of tricks. Who knows if any of them might work."
"Then we should move quickly, before she finds a way," Hyde-White says. "An infiltration would be neatest. We don't want to have to storm the town."
"Do we have the manpower for an infiltration?" you ask, and suck on the cigarette again.
"What do you mean?"
You glance between Patterson and Dey, waiting to see which one says what. Doesn't matter who says what: you'll throw your support to Steve.
"We can handle it," Dey says. "No reason to bring Nerio in, and we don't want them involved anyway."
You turn to Patterson, and he takes the hint. "If we go in fast, we have to go in big. That means bigger teams than Diana can muster."
"That's my feeling," you say before Dey can object. "We only need a handful of infiltrators to control things. Three or four, including me running the old woman. But packing things up, that doesn't take infiltrators, only muscle, and we can rent that from Nerio. Hell, we can rent it from Spartacus."
"Then we'd have to share," Dey says hotly. "Three or four inside-- Prescott says the old woman runs the town, she can order them to be the muscle."
"It'd look peculiar," you say. "They're paranoid up there, the old woman most of all. The longer we're there, the more unstable it would become. Besides, who would handle transportation?"
"We found it, we should be the ones to benefit," Dey insists.
"Not all of it would benefit us," you say. "That monster I described, that's something for Nerio, not us."
"So we leave it," Dey sneers.
"Passing them the monster would give us some good will with Nerio," Patterson says to Hyde-White. "Throw them a juicy bone we can't use and don't want in return for their help hauling it all out."
"Who gives a damn what--?" Dey sputters.
But Hyde-White slaps the table lightly with the palm of his hand. "I'll speak to Montgomery--"
"And it'll take forever for Nerio to get their asses in gear!"
"That's quite enough, Julian," Hyde-White says sharply. "I will make plain that time is of the essence. I'll talk to Bradshaw as well. If Nerio and Spartacus each prep only a small team, they will be prepared that much more quickly. But I do suggest, Mr. Prescott, that you employ the mask again, and soon, to ensure that this old woman remains docile and can't make any preparations to resist us."
You check your watch and calculate the time change. "It's three a.m. in Cuthbert now," you say. "I've almost five hours before I'd have to be back in it. I'll set things up in the medical ward."
"Why is that necessary?"
"I was in a catatonic state while wearing the mask," you say. "I'll need monitoring, nourishment and hydration. Staff will have to be on hand to take the mask off in case something goes wrong. While the old woman is sleeping I'd like to return to the world of the living. I'll need to make reports as well."
"Ah. Quite right. In the meantime we will plan the expedition's logistics. Who would you like for the infiltration team?"
"I'll think about it after I'm back in Cuthbert, figure out who out there needs to be replaced. I'll look over the team roster to see who'd be a good fit for the ones that need replacing."
"Excellent." Hyde-White closes his folder and looks around. "Well, gentlemen, I think that's it."
* * * * *
Patterson finds you thirty minutes later in the medical section, where you're talking with the staff doctors about your physical needs. He pulls you to the side. "Thanks for the early copy of the report," he murmurs with a smile.
"My pleasure. I'm glad you picked up on the cues I planted, and that Dey didn't."
He snickers. "He got his copy late, right?"
"So I got distracted while on my way to his office," you grin. "But trust him to be a greedy little asshole and make the worse argument to Jamie."
"Is this going to work for you? It's a new kind of mask."
"I got in and out the first time. As long I got someone at my bedside, I should be okay. But express a cell phone to Cuthbert, to the old woman, so I can call direct. Don't know if they've got cell coverage-- You ever been up there?"
Steve shakes his head.
"Lucky you. I have." You lean in close. "Don't say anything to Hyde-White, but some of those people are relatives of mine."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Hated being related to them, and the last time we were there for a bullshit reunion, my folks cut it short because my kid brother couldn't stop screaming."
"Wow."
"Uh huh." You run your tongue along the inside of your lip. "Funny that they should be up to their eyebrows in-- Well, never mind."
"Why don't you want me mentioning it to Jamie?"
You shrug. "Maybe you can. I just don't want him thinking I've got split loyalties or anything. You could call in an airstrike on that town and I wouldn't mind." You don't mention your real worry, that Hyde-White might think your connection to Cuthbert a funny thing, and might want to leave you there longer, to peel back the town more thoroughly, in case he can find other of your relations with your special talents. It gave you a very queer turn last year when you learned that the head of Project Diana had surreptitiously tested your younger brother for "occult talents."
Steve slaps you on the shoulder. "Well, that won't be necessary. And thanks again for the early tip." He winks. "Three points for the Westside squad." You exchange a light fist bump.
* * * * *
Medical prep work doesn't take more than an hour, which leaves you with at least three and maybe four hours to kill. You take a light meal from the commissary, then call Paige from your private rooms. "Where are you?"
"On my way back. Didn't find a thing."
"Meet me in my quarters?"
"Sure. I lied, I did find a few nice pieces. I'll show you."
"I'm heading out on a job," you say, and put a little hoarseness in your voice.
"Oh. Okay."
"Hurry."
You pull off your boots and wait anxiously for her.
Her light summer dress looks completely out of place on her angular, tattooed form, with the half mane of black hair hanging over one side of her head. But she would have been looking like a very different girl while shopping. "Who do you want to see?" she asks as she closes the door.
"You."
"You're sweet. But be serious."
"I am. I want you."
She smiles. "But it's more fun when it's--" She cocks her head, and touches her palm to her shoulder.
Her form melts and runs and fills. Black hair cascades down the side of her head before turning the color of ripe strawberries. Tattoos vanish, and her bust and hips fill out. Probably she was looking like this--a vivacious green-eyed redhead--while shopping, for the dress matches her coloring, and clings invitingly to her curves.
"And who would Olivia Prentiss look good with?" you ask.
She looks you up and down with gleaming eyes. "K.Z.," she purrs.
You pull off the glove and press your palm under your shirt, just under your right pectoral. Heat radiates through your skin. Your muscles bulge a little more, and your scalp prickles as tight black curls spring out. Your skin darkens, blacker and blacker, swallowing the tattoos. "You're a bad little girl," you growl, and scoop her up. You cover your mouth with yours, and you and she try swallowing each other's tongues. You toss her onto the bed, slip out off your trousers, and lay between her legs. She moans, and hugs you tightly. You have the following choice:  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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