I should bring you up to speed on the other parties involved. Specifically, Mr. Morden and his associates. When Morden betrayed Donna, he didn’t just flip a suicide bomber to his cause with words or any psychological tricks. Based on what Donna could gather, we concluded that Morden had some level of psychic ability. He could read the minds of those he had contact with on a regular basis. The more contact he had with a person the easier it was to read their mind. He could also manipulate minds when he applied enough focus. He groomed his subjects so that no one working for him could disobey a command. Morden could literally change their minds. He had to be within ten yards or so to actually be effective. He could work from longer distances if a person’s mind had been worked on enough. His influence could even linger when he was not around. If Morden had been born female, his power would have been exponentially stronger. But even for a man, his gift seemed unusually strong.
Donna tried to keep tabs on her former partner as best as she could. It wasn’t easy because she could feel that there were blank spaces around him. And every time she tried to sense what he was doing she could feel those blind spots in his timeline growing. It got to the point where she couldn’t even see or sense him. Donna thought that it was possible he could have put a mental block to shield himself from her time sense. However, he was not strong enough to create the other mental blocks. We doubted some form of technology was responsible so the only answer left was another enhanced person. It would have to be a woman because of the power and sophistication needed to so specifically blind Donna to certain things. Donna could not sense anything about her and we could not find any clues to this woman’s identity.
Morden was not completely untraceable, however. Like me, he left a wake of his life in the timeline. We pieced together this much. After Syria he disappeared and was presumed dead at one point. No images or pictures of him existed in any database and the only official acknowledgment of his service was a star on the wall at CIA headquarters. Other than that, Agent Morden was just another nameless, faceless agent that no one took any real note of. About a year after the events in Syria, a task force was put together made up of agents and assets from The Department of Homeland Security, the CIA, and the FBI. This task force occasionally operated in foreign countries sometimes without the knowledge or permission of any government. These activities were at best unethical and oftentimes illegal.
Donna would occasionally catch images and feelings of people who took orders from others who worked for Morden. But when she tried to push her senses further the trail always ended in a blind spot. Morden was frustratingly good as his operational security. Those involved knew bits and pieces about the various operations, but never knew the full scope. Then they forgot when it was convenient for them to forget. Or they died. Mostly they died. They had all been compelled to do their work and keep it secret. The purpose of this group was to identify and track people who had gifts. Many of the gifted disappeared. Some were recruited and others conscripted. The most troubling rumor we heard was that powered and non-powered individuals were being experimented on. Donna could never confirm it through her power. Eventually we did confirm the experimentation through a chance encounter.
Donna was able to identify a man who was scouting and evaluating enhanced people for the task force. We were conducting mobile surveillance and followed his car to an abandoned warehouse. We parked two blocks away and snuck in through a back window of what used to be an office. Once inside, we heard the snap and hum of something electrical. We carefully made our way into the warehouse itself and spotted his body on the ground. The air smelled like ozone. A girl with a shaved head and wearing scrubs stood over him. She was maybe twelve or thirteen and appeared to be talking to herself. We cautiously walked closer. We could see stitches going around her head, like she had been operated on. She also had tattoos on her right cheek. A few steps closer and we could see P031 in black on her cheek just above her jawline. A weird red symbol was just above it. It almost looked like the letter A. Two slanting lines crossed, forming the top of the A with what looked like a double helix crossing the middle.
“This is a test.” she kept repeating, over and over.
She stared straight ahead and didn’t appear to notice we were there. Her hands were clenched tight. Donna looked worried.
“I can’t feel her timeline. It’s like she isn’t even here.” she said.
“Are you okay?” I asked the girl.
“This is a…” she stopped talking.
Her head twitched and for a moment she looked like she was trying to say something else but resumed what she had been saying.
“This is a test. This is a test. This is a test. This is a test.”
Tears started to form in her eyes.
“What is your name?” asked Donna.
The girl trembled and stopped speaking again. Then her eyes turned to us.
“C… Call… me… C… C… Coil. G… Go away!” she said.
She looked like saying those words was painful.
“Your name is Coil?” I asked.
“This is a test. This is a t… tes… Y… You have to... g… go! Run. P... Please!” she yelled, pleadingly.
Her hands opened and electricity started to arc over her fingers. The smell of ozone almost became overpowering and our hair began to rise.
“Go!” she cried out.
Tears fell like rain from her desperate eyes. Then it dawned on me that she had a familiar look on her face. The look of someone feeling helpless but still fighting with everything they had against a wall in their mind. I didn’t recognize it at first because it was on someone else's face. I also felt the monster inside me suddenly tense.
“Sarah! Get us out of here now!” yelled Donna.
I picked Donna up in my arms and jumped. I twisted my body to protect her as we passed through the metal roof and into the air. We landed in a nearby parking lot and ran. A minute later a black cargo van drove in through an open loading dock. Five men stepped out of the van.
“No more tests!” yelled Coil.
Arcs of lightning wildly shot out of her hands at the men. They scattered to find cover but two were struck down.
“No! More! Tests!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.
Lightning arced from her fingers at the survivors of her first attack but she could not aim accurately. One of the men pulled a pistol and shot Coil in the head. It was a mistake. She had been charging herself up and her death released everything she had. A ball of energy and lightning expanded from her body within the warehouse. The steel frame and pillars in the building acted like a Faraday cage, containing the burst of electricity and channeling most of it into the ground. Everything alive in the warehouse was killed instantly. The discharge also lit anything flammable, including the gas in the van’s tank. The lightning from Coil’s body also sliced through some of the pillars and supports. The warehouse, structurally weakened by the discharge and blast, collapsed on itself.
It could have been the sheer amount of power she was generating, but Coil somehow opened a temporary crack in the temporal blind spot surrounding her. We know it was not on purpose but it allowed Donna to sense enough. The fracture in the blind spot lingered enough for Donna to pick up some impressions. She sensed that the man we were following had been led there as a test for Coil. He was a loose end that needed clipping and she was being evaluated outside a lab environment. We don’t know how many people Coil had been forced to kill before then, but this was the first field test to see if she could take orders in the real world. The men in the van had been there to pick her up. Our questioning appeared to disrupt her mental conditioning. The only other thing Donna could sense was that Coil was a code name given to the girl. She saw fragments of documents but Coil’s real name was blurred.
“Do you think she could remember her name?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” said Donna.
I wish we could have saved her. I also wish I could tell you more about her but I haven't been given any memories about the girl. But I do have a memory of the one responsible for turning her into a weapon. I don’t know the exact day, but it was around the time we found Brenda and Leah. Morden was visiting the Haller-Challis Pharmaceuticals main lab near Boston. The company didn’t have any noteworthy products, but it did well enough. The executives were happy enough that they didn’t feel the need to inquire about the activities of their real boss, Morden. The always impeccably business dressed unofficial CEO of Haller-Challis came and went as he pleased through a private rear entrance to the building. He took a private elevator to a below ground level and walked down a long hallway. Morden swiped a card against a wall panel and someone monitoring a security camera verified his identity. The magnetic lock on the door clicked. Morden walked in to find several scientists and technicians busying themselves about a large lab. It was divided into different sections working on different projects. The senior scientist, Dr. Madelyn Graves noticed Morden and walked over.
“Good morning, Agent,” said Dr. Graves.
“Good morning, Madelyn,” Morden replied.
She hated that Morden didn’t give her the due professional respect by addressing her by her title or even her last name. But she gave him a pass every time. She couldn’t say why she could never call him out. She didn’t have this problem with anyone else and would have quit a long time ago but something just kept her here. If she really bothered to think about it, Dr. Graves couldn’t remember applying or interviewing for this job. Which meant that she didn’t remember the splitting headache she got during her first and only interview. It also did not bother her that she could not remember those things.
“How is the good Doctor doing today?” Morden spoke with a cocky flare.
He wasn’t asking about her.
“More lucid today. The new drugs appear to be focusing him more as well.” Dr. Graves told him.
In a room on the other side of a glass wall was Dr. Robert Wolfe. The highly regarded scientist in the bioengineering and genetics fields had always been a bit of a recluse, obsessed with his work. He was the creator of the Alpha-Wolfe virus. Outside the lab, no one knew what the virus’s origin was or that it even had an official name. The scientific community labeled it, but I can’t remember what they settled on. People just started calling it the Powers Virus when the link between powers and infection was made. Morden made sure to direct interest away from his assets and activities so no one ever connected it to him or Dr. Wolfe.
Alpha-Wolfe was originally intended to create super soldiers through viral DNA manipulation. No one could figure out how the virus worked, how it mutated to create inexplicable powers, or how it began its uncontrolled spread. It wasn’t designed to be transmissible. It’s possible Dr. Wolf knew the answers, but he only occasionally answered questions about his work. When he did answer there was no guarantee what he said applied to the questions he was asked. More often than not he seemed to reply to questions he was asking himself. Most of the time he was too busy constructing things in his head to even notice someone else in the room. The virus that gave us our gifts had enhanced Dr. Wolfe’s mental functions and allowed his obsession to take his work further than he could have ever dreamed. Dr. Wolfe sat furiously typing away at a keypad and babbling calculations and formulas to himself that no one could follow. Doctor Graves stood beside Morden looking into the room with concern.
“How are the headaches?” Morden asked.
“They don’t seem to be as often or as intense. Not that we have observed. He doesn’t really tell us much of anything lately.” said Dr. Graves.
“Good. Up his dosage,” said Morden.
Dr. Graves looked upset and felt the need to speak up.
“We risk causing damage to his brain if we go any higher,” she said.
Morden looked at Graves and taped on the glass.
“That beautiful brain of his was damaged coming off the factory floor. It’s what gives his mind such a fantastic ability for creation. And the virus has pushed him even further. We’re just helping him along,” he said.
Graves sighed with concern. She had no personal connection to Dr. Wolfe. But he was a human being. The cocktails of painkillers and drugs to help with mental focus were becoming increasingly dangerous. She put her foot down and tried to state the obvious in a calm and authoritative manner.
“To what end? I mean, he is making amazing progress, even with material outside his expertise. But at the very least we risk making his mind more erratic if we continue these treatments. At worst we could literally burn out his brain before the work is completed,” said Dr. Graves.
“Hmm,” said Morden as he considered his subordinate’s analysis.
He didn’t miss the defiance in her voice. Neither did he miss that feeling of rebellion brewing in her mind. Dr. Graves got a glassy eyed look on her face. Morden didn’t bother to even look at her. He could feel the change. He smiled to himself and thought, “That’s better.”
“And yet you don’t see any other option. Project SC needs him to finish design, coding, and final checks. We need to keep him going as long as we can,” said Morden.
Dr. Graves was silent. She had lost her train of thought and there was a slight headache coming on.
“Dr. Graves?” Morden asked, snapping his fingers twice in front of her face.
She blinked her eyes and realized that she had somehow zoned out. There was something she had been saying. Now she remembered. Dr. Graves realized the importance of this project. It must continue.
“Um, yes …. I mean, no. I mean… There is no other way around it. Dr. Wolfe’s progress must continue if we are to meet the deadline,” she said.
“What progress has been made?” asked Morden.
It took a second but she found the relevant line of thought.
“We’re still deciphering Dr. Wolfe’s writings and specifications, but it appears the SC project is viable. There were no issues in the simulations and preliminary system testing was completed today. The SC drone itself has completed final construction and we will make the Air Force’s deadline for the launch,” said the Doctor.
Mental conditioning took a lot of time and effort to get right. On strong minds it required a lot of routine maintenance. He gave her a pat on the head for making progress. Morden turned around and walked back down the hallway.
“Excellent work, Madelyn. Gold stars for the whole team,” he said.
And then he was gone. Off to the nearest airport to catch a private plane. He had other projects to attend to. Dr. Graves clenched her jaw and rubbed her temples. The headache subsided. So did the embarrassment of zoning out in front of her boss. She never did that kind of thing. It was strange.
“He is such a prick,” she thought.
She hated it when he called her by her first name. They were not friends. They would never be friends. She didn’t understand why she could never confront him about it. She couldn’t even remember why she took this job. But this was her job. It is what she needed to do.
A technician walked up to Dr. Graves and asked, “Did he say anything about the encrypted files Dr. Wolfe added to the SC software update?”
“No. And I don’t know why the drone needs such a huge memory array so don’t ask me about that either,” Dr. Graves said.
“But the files are huge. We can’t even figure out what they are for,” said the tech.
“That is beyond our pay grade. We’re here to get SC constructed and online. Any problems that arise will be Agent Morden’s concern,” said Dr. Graves.
Madelyn Graves was in fact curious about the files and some of SC’s other odd specifications. But she lost interest and decided other aspects of the project needed her complete focus. There was no time for idle curiosities. This was odd considering she was normally curious by nature. It made her a great scientist.
“What were the results of the blade testing for the Haywire project?” she asked the tech.
“All green. There should be no issues during the procedure for A045. I told you yesterday, remember?” he replied.
That was concerning for her. Why didn’t she remember?
“I think I’m working too hard. Were the specifications sent over?” she asked.
“Yes. They finished fabrication last night and confirmed our testing,” he reported.
“Good. And the new circuit board?” asked Dr. Graves.
“Also green. We did the final testing earlier this morning. You were correct, all we had to do was alter the compounds we used to manufacture the components. Just like we did on P031,” he replied.
“Excellent. The work on her gave us the insight we needed for A045. Send over the specs so we can be done with it.” she said.
“It’s about time,” he replied.
“Still no more requests for P001 containers?” she asked.
“No. None.” he replied.
“Alright then. Back to work,” she said.
Morden sat in the back of a black SUV with blacked-out windows, peacefully enjoying the silence on the way to the airport. He just sat there quietly, waiting for something. There was a barely noticeable shift in air. He could almost feel it. It was so light that unless you knew what to feel for, you would miss it. Morden smiled. There was whispering that wasn't coming from him or the driver.
“I’m way ahead of you,” he replied to the voice. “The group you suggested made contact and it went as predicted. I think they will work nicely.”226Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAPiFoIN1q2
