Just doing my job

Despite having the world\'s longest undefended border, Canadian customs are red hot. I’d landed at Halifax airport to get the legal bit out of the way, and only then realised that I’d left my passport back in London.

Superpowers do not necessarily include super intelligence, especially when you’re having trouble thinking straight.

Fortunately I had my military I.D. with me, and the data-chip it contained included my duel-nationality status, something I’d decided was worth it as long as I didn’t spent long enough in Canada to get hit by the tax rate.

Halifax to Ottawa was easy: I just went down the cost till I hit the Saint Lawrence River, and followed it west until I hit the capital. The Canadian Institute for Superhuman Studies, more commonly known as simply ‘The Institute’, is centred on a sprawling campus several miles outside the city, but I knew that Charlotte would be home at that time of day.

I heard the sirens and saw the flashing lights of emergency vehicles before I saw the still smoking crater that used to be our apartment building.

The fire-fighters were just damping down the last few embers when I landed, my legs feeling like they were filled with jelly. I could see a line of bodies covered with sheets lining the pavement, a CSI photographer photographing them for the archives.

“Hey, you’re not meant to be here!” A young looking beat cop looked round and saw me, “Get back behind the tape!”

“I-I live here.” I stuttered; shocked by the near total destruction, “What happened?”

“Look buddy, you’d better off behind the line with everyone else.” The cop tried to push me back, but I didn’t move at all, “Just who the hell are you?”

“Nathan, Nathan Drake.” I absentmindedly pulled out my wallet and flashed my pass at him, “My wife would have been in there…”

“Drake you say?” The officer looked at me, but I didn’t notice the way his face contorted for a second before returning to normal, “You’d better come with me.”

I let the cop, twenty if a day, lead me through the remains of the building to where a large number of police cars where parked next to a jet-black articulated truck and trailer.

I saw two men pulling an M.I.B. routine, trying to look all sinister and menacing, but failing.

“Captain, this man says he’s Nathan Drake.” The young cop called out, making everyone turn to face me. The two M.I.B.’s walked towards me, passing though the crowed of police, paramedics and fire-fights like a pair of sharks.

“Nathan Drake?” The taller of the two asked, “Corporal Nathan Drake of the Special Intervention Unit of the British Army?”

“Yes.” I nodded, wondering what was going on.

“I’m Agent Smith, this is Agent Brown: Interpol.” A pair of ID’s where flashed in my face, “We need you to come with us, sir.”

“Why? What’s happened?” I asked, more interested in finding my wife than anything else.

“Sir, please don’t make a scene.” Smith rested a hand on my shoulder, and I batted it away. He grabbed my arm, and I realised that they were defiantly superhuman, but nowhere near my class.

“I am not going anywhere until you tell me where my wife is.” I stood my ground.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this sir.” Smith broke a capsule under my nose, and my head suddenly felt light as I slumped forward.

*********************************************************************

“I’m glad you’re back with us Mr Drake.” A voice somewhere off to my right woke me, “I’m afraid that the sedative used on you is still experimental, so we where not sure how much to use.”

“What?” I mumbled, my skull feeling two sizes too small, “Who are you? Where am I?”

“All that will be explained Mr Drake, once you have handed over the data-chip Dr. Lang sent you.” The face moved round so I could identify it as Agent Brown, “Where is the chip?”

“What chip?” I faked ignorance, trying to break the manacles that held my hands behind my back.

“Do not play games with me Mr Drake: I don’t have the patience and nether do those I report to. We know that Simon Neo passed you a data-chip he brought down from Luna.” Brown smiled, “Oh, and by the way, that sedative also has a rather interesting side-effect: it strips you of your powers for a time. And those restraints are made of a titanium-aluminium alloy with amazing tensile strength.”

“Good for you.” I smiled back, my vision starting to clear, “Maybe your special friend will let you tie them up.”

“Oh Mr Drake, I was hoping you’d say something like that…” Browns fist slammed into the side of my head, whipping it round so fast I thought my neck would snap, “Where is the data-chip?” CRACK! “Where is the data-chip?” CRACK!

He continued to hit me for some time, and I felt my face bruise and bleed, something I’d not experienced since high school. In the end he even stopped asking me questions, and simply hit me, driven by some unknown inner rage. I’d never really gotten into any fights as a kid, and I stopped feeling physical pain after my powers manifested.

To say it felt strange would have been the mother and father of all understatements.
I’d deliberately angered Brown, knowing it was the only chance I had. Angry, he’d make mistakes that I could exploit. Calm he might spot them in time to hit me with another dose of the sedative and then I’d be in deep, deep trouble.

“Ok, ok, I’ll tell you.” I said after a while, my lip swollen and bleeding, “I’ll tell you something…”

“And what is that Mr Drake?” Brown looked upset that I’d interrupted his little workout by agreeing to cooperate.

“I’ll tell you something…” I smiled, my eyes suddenly alert, “The effects of the sedative have worn off.” The restraints shattered as I brought my left hand round to grab him by the throat and lift him off the ground. My right fist went back as far as it would go, and then I punched out with all my strength.

Brown’s head seemed to explode: there are times when I scare even myself.

The cell door disintegrated as Agent Smith came through, looking down at the body of his partner. He tried to pull a vile of sedative from his pocket, but I was faster. Driven by adrenalin and anger, I leapt at him, pushing him back out through the doorway and into the wall beyond. The masonry crumpled under the force of impact, and Smiths limp body fell into the empty office on the other side.

After that I kind of lost it: guards, mainly regular human, came running down the corridor that had become a twisted hell of blinking red emergency lights and wailing sirens. My face set in a maniacal grin; I found some reserves of energy from somewhere deep in my physique, and charged up my hands, holding them apart as a barrage of gunfire bounced off me.

I charged at the guards, knocking them down like nine-pins: I knew, even through the anger that I had to get out and away before I crashed. I ran along corridor after corridor, trying to find an exit, or at lest a window: I didn’t want to use too much energy knocking down walls or ceilings. A pyro-kinetic tried to stop me, but she only succeeded in setting off the sprinkler system, drenching everyone in the building and rendering herself powerless.

Finally finding a window that looked out over a busy street, I dived through it, heedless of the danger the falling glass would have on anyone below. My rational mind had shut down completely. All I could think of was getting away and finding Charlotte.

Getting away once I hit the street wasn’t that hard: I just ran at full speed for a few miles, taking the most roundabout route I could think of.

*********************************************************************

I ended up in a back-street coffee shop, spending most of my Canadian money on sugar-rich food and black coffee to get my energy levels up again. The staff and other patrons looked at me funny a few times, but mainly left me alone.

I tried to piece together what had happened from what little I knew: someone was either kidnapping or killing those superhumans who applied to emigrate to Luna and the superhuman-run colony on the Sea of Tranquillity. Who ever they where, they where buried deep enough that it took someone like Ren to find them, and dangerous enough that she felt the only person she could turn to was Dr Lang.

But as Dr Lang was dead, having passed the job of uncovering the conspiracy onto me, that line of enquiry ended there and then. I could try and contact Simon Neo, see if he had any information that he hadn’t, for whatever reason, passed onto me in Brighton. I would have preferred to go to Ren, but she’d only survived as long as she had by being impossible to find.

My pager bleeped as I was finishing my tenth cup of coffee: the number was HQ in London. I wondered for a second if maybe there was someone there who could help me, but then a second message came thought: ‘I don’t know what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into, but 6 is after you. Run and hide. HS’

6 meant M.I.6, the Secret Intelligence Service. HS meant the message was from Hennery Siva, one of the few people I’d trust with my life.

Home was out of the question: S.I.S. or S.I.U. would be there waiting for me, probably both of them. If I was to find out what was going on, I needed to remain mobile for now, gather enough evidence to go to Captain Hobbs, and hope he could pull enough strings to get it all cleared up.

*********************************************************************

I walked along the streets as the sun started to set, trying to work out what to do: I couldn’t risk using my credit card or pass to get more money or a hotel room, and I didn’t have enough cash, ever English or Canadian, to pay for something extravagant like a hotel room. I decided that the best course of action would be to find somewhere to sleep for the night, preferable an empty building so the cops wouldn’t bother me.
I was passing an alleyway when a hand reached out and grabbed me, pulling me into the shadows. A momentary flash-back to my meeting with Ren slowed me down for a second before I saw who had grabbed me.

“Charlotte!” I exclaimed, hugging her with all my strength, “I was worried that something might have happened to you!”

“To me? Never!” She grinned, returning my embrace, “I was just coming down the street when the apartment exploded. I saw the fireball erupt from our living room window, so thought it was best to disappear for a while. I’ve been trying to find you.”

“A couple of men arrested me. They said they where Interpol.” I explained, showing her the bruises on my face, “They had some kind of drug that knocked me out and disabled my abilities…”

“What, like this?” Charlotte’s smile faded as she drew a small vile from her pocket and cracked it under my nose. My vision blurred as I sank to my knees, looking up at my wife: her smile suddenly seemed mocking as the darkness started to close in. “Sweet dreams Nathan…”

To Be Continued…