Stormwatch #2

San Diego

“I don’t know what to do!” Caitlin screamed.

Caitlin could see Manchester Black’s eyes swirling and dripping with ink, like holes that opened and closed almost independently of movements of the eye. Black liquid dribbled from his tear ducts, down his face, meeting the contours of his cheeks and lips, spreading in ways that defied the movements of water and gravity. His hand snapped backwards, as though something had been fired from it and he blew the end.

The pavement at Maxine’s back and Caitlin front began to tear itself apart in an ever-increasing cone of influence. As though someone had taken a hammer to the ground. The asphalt shattered, cracks spreading and lifting in uneven patterns outwards, approaching the pair of them like a wave moving underneath ice.

Maxine broke into a sprint, barely able to hold Caitlin over her shoulder. Caitlin jostled in place, her eyes widening in horror. Manchester spat ink on the ground, a hacking cough pulling itself through his throat, as he lit another cigarette. The Ink Men closed in, limbs reaching out in a mindless grasp. The War Maker Unit, a vaguely humanoid shape with a cast metal lower jaw and lips, and a giant, singular whirring eye in the centre of its head, whined in protest as it began to circle them again.

“Fuck it,” Maxine said before she twisted on her ankles. The blast caught them both and threw them into the air. Caitlin turned, end over end, and hit the ground hard, skidding to a halt.

Maxine hit a car side on and bounced off with force. The car alarm went off and Maxine rolled onto her side, coughing and holding her ribs with a whine that was barely human.

Outside of the cone of influence, Caitlin pushed herself onto her hands and knees. Her hands bled from skidding on the sidewalk. She looked up at the Ink Men headed towards her, dripping black onto the ground before her.

Maxine pushed herself up on her hands and knees, her elbows wobbling like a newborn foal. Lights swam in front of her eyes, as the blurred form of Manchester Black, sauntered towards her. He had his hands on his hips, a John Wayne stride.

“Y’got a lot of explaining to do, Kiddo,” he said, in an unconvincing a Western drawl. Maxine snarled and looked across at Ink Man, rapidly moving in on a terrified-looking Caitlin.

“Stop!” Caitlin yelled, throwing her hands up. The Ink Men paused, before simply pushing itself over her outstretched hands. She scrabbled backwards, wiping her hands down her trousers.

“You pulled her into this mess you’ve made,” Black said, crouching down before Maxine and thumbing over his shoulder, “Some tech who doesn’t understand what you’ve done to her, does she?”

“Shut up,” Maxine said, her teeth gritted.

“Oh, don’t like it when someone is…what’s the term…Libellous about you.”

Black grinned with yellowed teeth, speckled with ink.

“Sorry – We Brits love a bit of bloody irony to splash back on you righteous Americans. ‘Course, you don’t really get Irony either, do ya? That Morrisette woman didn’t get it.”

Maxine snarled.

“She’s Canadian, you idiot.”

Black’s smile spread wider.

“Same fuckin’ thing,” He placed his hand on Maxine’s forehead and pushed her down onto the pavement.

“She’s potentially in trouble here, Maxine,” Black looked over his shoulder mouthed 'Sorry' to Caitlin, who was surrounded by Ink Men and the War Maker looming in the background. His unmoving features staring with automata intensity at the woman. She sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes to try and slow down her heart rate. The Ink Men hadn’t touched her – yet.

“But hey, like Father like Daughter, right? It breaks me heart, honestly, but I'm sorry this didn't work out better for you.”

“You don’t know anything about him!” Maxine screamed. Her fingers dug into the pavement, scraping away little ditches under her fingers. Black raised an eyebrow.

“Pretty strong for someone who smells like they’ve been bathing in pure horse-shit for their entire lives. You smell like a burnt turd, right WMO?”

Black looked over at the seven-foot-tall War Maker One Unit, who stared back at him. Its face impassive while it held Caitlin Snow very firmly by the shoulders. Caitlin had her eyes closed, focused on her breathing again.

“Fuckin’ Robots,” Black muttered. He smirked, pushing Maxine down into the dirt. She struggled against his grip.

“Look at Ms. Snow, Maxine,” Black said. He stood up suddenly, leaving the pressure to ebb away from Maxine for a moment, “She's struggling to remain calm and doing a bleedin' admirable job, considering. You’ve inconvenienced her and us in this situation, with your craziness.”

Black put his hands behind his back and gave a small, deferential nod to Caitlin, “Can I personally apologise for any inconvenience to you, Ms. Snow. Now that we’re sure that you’re not an accomplice to this terrorist, of course. I can also say that Ms. Sunderland will want to greet you herself on our return to the office, and discuss your, generous, compensation package.”

Caitlin looked shocked to be addressed directly, her eyes snapping open to the smug man standing with his back to Maxine, who was still pinned to the ground. She moaned and struggled under an unseen weight.

“Ms. Sunderland?” Caitlin asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Black said, “She takes a special interest in her employees, especially when something tragic happens like it has to you. We can get you treatment, specialist Doctors, whatever you need. Plus a huge package of compensation, because we realise this is very traumatic for you, especially when people like Maxine take advantage.”

“You’re a LIAR!” Maxine pushed her body against Black’s mind. He quickly turned his attention back to Maxine, pacing over to her and putting his hand on the back of her head, forcing her face into the grit and asphalt.

“Telekine, Love. We get a lot of people like you, little Green Peacers who want to link Sunderland to something. Toxic Waste, Oil Companies, Spills, Water contamination. Hell, we had one guy turn up last week telling us that Sunderland Corp was responsible for the loss of his Son and his Marriage.”

Maxine twisted to eye Black under his grip.

“Piece of Shit,” she said, through gritted teeth.

“Was it last week, or was it a few years back? All them mentals turn into a single long line of crazy, spouting shit about Chemtrails, and Flat Earths, Cosmic Gods and Big OLD SCARY NATURE!”

Black leaned down, pushing the shifting weight of his body and his mind onto Maxine. Her face was pinned to the pavement, the feeling of Black’s mind pushing and testing against the recesses of her own like trying to fight against a sand dune, shifting and subtly, but full of weight and resting power.

“You might know something about that, right?” Black snarled, “Are you sure you know the truth, Maxine? Are you sure you understand?”

Maxine closed her eyes, and Black felt, for the first-time resistance. Black’s eyes widened for a moment, and he took a step back.

“She’s pushing back,” he said, quietly, pressing a finger to the ear-bud in his left ear, “Is she a Seedling?”

He paused seemingly for a moment, waiting, and turned his attention back to Maxine with renewed viciousness. What little ground she’d gained was pushed back and she was put down hard.

“Your Dad was a deadbeat, Maxine. I’m sorry to say that, but it seems like you need someone to tell it to you straight – Clearly y’Mum never bothered to do that.”

Maxine stopped dead, the memories of her Father and Mother together bubbling to the surface of her mind, unbidden.

“Contact,” Black said.

**


Maxine looked up at her Mother, a slim and beautiful face. She remembered her Mother being so beautiful, and captivating. Brilliant, bright Red hair, uncontrolled in the mornings, but teased within an inch of its life by her expert hands. Her Mother was a radiant goddess, a patient saint. Maxine admired her with every gaze, so much so she gave the impression of reverence instead of joy. She smiled down at her while passing her a plastic plate of food. Cheese, fruit and half a sandwich.

“Mommy,” Maxine said.

“Yes, Little Wing?” she asked, crouching down in front of her. Maxine smiled, and then looked down at the ground.

“Cheese comes from Cows,” she said. Her Mother nodded. Maxine glanced from the corner of her eyes at her Father, who was leaning against the counter, reading over a stack of documents.

“I met a Cow once,” Maxine said, “Did it hurt the Cow to get the cheese?”

Ellen looked aghast for a moment and looked over to Maxine’s Father, who put down his papers.

“Depends, Little Wing,” her Father said. Maxine stared up at him with admiration. He was a tall, strong man. Muscles stood out underneath his sleeves, but he moved with grace and calm. She liked watching him walk, it was like watching a Lion, or a Bear. The sort of calm confidence that comes from understanding that violence and fighting will result in their victory, but they don’t encourage it.

Her Father put his hand on her Mother’s shoulder and rubbed it softly.

“Do you want to know how Cheese and Milk are made?”

“Yes,” Maxine said, nodding intently. She wanted to understand.

“You understand that you might not want to know this once I have told you, and that is part of the curse of being a grown-up,” Her Father said. Maxine nodded and handed her plate to her Father. He took it and put it on the counter.

“Always been a bloody bleedin’ heart then,” Black said, pushing between Maxine’s Father and Mother, putting his arms around their shoulders and leaning on them, “Honestly, you got all this messed up, Maxine. Your Dad left your Mum when you was only, what? Five years old?”

“No, that isn’t right. We all lived together. All four of us, until he disappeared in Seventeen years ago. I remember it!”

Maxine closed her eyes tightly, still trapped in the body of a pre-school aged girl. She ran away from Black, heading out into the yard.

“I lived in San Diego for years with my family! We had a Cat and a Dog, and I had a Pet Triceratops…”

Maxine paused and touched her lips.

“Sounds crazy, dunnit?” Black said, walking behind her.

“Not the Dog and Cat part, ‘cause that works sometimes. The Dinosaur part. Sound a bit unreasonable? Maybe just the fantasy of a young girl…?”

“No,” Maxine said, jutting her bottom lip out as he spoke, “I know what I saw. I know what I know. She was called Buttercup, and I loved her.”

“What happened to her?” Black asked, narrowing his eyes in mock thought and putting a hand on his chin.

“I…”

“Was it before or after your Dad left you?”

“No, he didn’t leave us. He was taken! By Sunderland! He went with the nice Jenny and Mr. Holland and then…you made him disappear!”

Black smirked and laced his hands behind his head.

“Maxine. You Dad was a militant vegan, he explained how Cows were raped to make Milk and Cheese by the Dairy Industry. He watched Zeitgeist videos on Youtube. He thought the Government was controlling your mood through your diet.”

Black allowed himself a small, sincerer smile instead of the mock laughter he’d been feeding her with.

“Your Dad wasn’t well, Maxine and it appears that it was hereditary. You took it hard when he left, didn’t you?”

“Shut UP!”

“Maxine,” Black said. He approached the little girl quietly and crouched down in front of her, “You’re cheating yourself. These opinions, these thoughts you have…they’re not your own. They’re the product of an illness, of guilt. Let me show you.”

Maxine balled her fists and closed her eyes, launching herself at Black. He sidestepped, deftly, and gestured with open hands.

She opened her eyes again and found herself in a dusty, cold and damp apartment. Her Father sat in a tatty old T-Shirt, which just above covered his bulging stomach. He smiled at her in a benign way, but something essential was missing behind his eyes.

“See, this is when you’re allowed to visit him. Every third weekend after he had his breakdown – You don’t remember that because your dear old Mum spared you from that. Your Brother got the full extent of that.”

Black crossed his arms and stood behind Maxine, who was now Fifteen.

“Dad?” she asked. He nodded once and sighed, getting to his feet. He stumbled a little and knocked his knees on the coffee table, spilling a cold coffee cup, which had the beginnings of some mould growing in it. A pill pot rolled off the table and onto the floor.

“Let me get that, Dad. Just sit down,” Maxine said. Frustration crept into her voice. Why did he have to be so pathetic? Why was she looking after him?

“How is your Mother,” he asked. His voice, once strong and commanding was now tiny, and small.

“Fine,” Maxine said, curtly. She grabbed an old cloth hanging off the sofa and mopped up the coffee.

“You need to look after yourself better, Dad. You can’t live like this.”

Buddy looked up at her.

“I can’t live like this at all,” he said.

“Dad,” Maxine said. She sat down in front of him and took his hand.

“You can’t say things like that,” she said, “You know that we need you.”

Her Dad sighed heavily and pulled his hand back.

“Nobody believes me, Max. Your Mum, Cliff…You.”

Maxine offered a weak smile and put her hands on her lap.

“I believe you,” she said, knowing that it was selfish. It was to keep him in the moment, to keep him here with her. This afterglow of her Father, an overweight, greying man had once been her hero, and her source of worship, and now he was just another fallen messiah on his way to the biological and mythological dumping ground, to fester and decay with all the other false starts.

“I have it all planned out, Max,” her Father said as he opened a small book, “Sunderland is at the heart of it all. They’re the ones who are funding NASA and the EPA, telling us that Global Warming is a thing – But they got too close to the lie, and had to change the narrative, remember that? It’s Climate Change now…”

The book that her Father held was full of doodles and notes, cuttings and post-its he’d stuck to the pages. It was a barely organised mess, with information falling out of it and onto the floor. She sniffed once staring at it, his once proud and clear writing just scribbles on the page, barely readable.

“No,” Maxine said loudly. Her Father looked startled. She said it again, louder.

“Alright, love. Alright. No need to throw a shit-fit – I’m just showing you what you want, and what you need to hear.”

“I don’t need to hear or see lies, Black,” Maxine said, as he can blurring into focus. She balled her fists again and walked towards him. “I know my Dad, and I know he’d never leave me. I know he’d never break up our family. I KNOW you’re lying.”

Black scoffed and shook his head.

“Maxine, those are your memories. I didn’t do a thing. You’re remembering him like that – I’ve never even met the guy.”

“LIAR!” Maxine screamed. Black took a step back.

“LIAR!” Maxine screamed again. The mentally constructed world around them collapsed.

“My Dad loved me. My Dad never lied! My Dad was my world and you TOOK HIM.”

Maxine pushed herself up from the asphalt. Black’s nostrils exploded with ink, dribbling down over his lips and spreading across his teeth. He stumbled backwards and landed on his backside. The Ink Men surrounding Caitlin shuffled, and then collapsed in unison, flooding the immediate area with Black liquid.

Black stared up at Maxine, who had pulled herself to her feet, her ankles unsteady and her legs unable to properly hold her weight. She gestured towards Caitlin with a wave.

“We need to leave,” she said quietly and began to make her way towards Caitlin and the War Maker Unit.

“Damn right,” Black said quickly, getting to his feet. He took two steps towards Maxine, both his arms stretched out as though he were about to cast something at her. She turned, on the ball of her foot and reached.

The air around them both curdled with power. A visible aura of crimson licked from Maxine out to Black, his own powers, in the form of an Ink like signature which manifests as tendrils of liquid ignoring the rules of Gravity and flowing upwards, from his chest. The two combined and exploded in a bow wave of spattering that made its way across Black’s body.

“I’m more than just a Seedling, Black,” Maxine said, her body twisting and cracking. Her skin split as Chitinous plates forced their way through it, to the surface. “I’m manifest. I am the Red. I know you, and Sunderland are liars, and I will expose you.”

Maxine’s fist shot outwards. Black tried to twist out of the way and pushed against her with the force of his will, stopping her fist centimetres from his chest. She grinned, a strange, toothy grin, as though the first four teeth on the top and bottom rows had melded together into a hardened plate.

“Life, like the Truth, always finds a way,” she said, clicking her fingers, as Maxine sucked down on her power source. Black found himself in a Psionic Black-Spot. Normally, the background noise of human minds and the small animal minds created a backdrop for him. Now, however, he was deafened by the silence.

Pulling in the power of the Pistol Shrimp, Maxine created a burst of super-hot air that exploded outwards with the force of a bullet. The resultant burst of power sent Black flying. He hit the same car that Maxine had rebounded against earlier, but forced himself through the dented door and window, lying mangled in the front seats.

Maxine turned to Caitlin and powered all her small body weight into a jump. It threw her high into the air, her legs outstretched, hitting the War Maker unit straight in the head, and sending it flying off into the street. The unit itself sparked a moment and then toppled over. Caitlin recoiled at Maxine’s outstretched hand.

“I..”

“Come with me, Caitlin. I won’t hurt you, and I haven’t threatened you yet.”

Maxine held the woman’s eyes, and Caitlin looked the Black, groaning from the seat of the car, and to the War Maker Unit. She sighed heavily and nodded.

“Ok,” she said, taking Maxine’s hand, “But I’m not staying with you and I don’t want to know any more about…”

She gestured towards Maxine and then to herself. Maxine grinned, manically and pulled her towards a man-hole cover.

“You don’t have a choice in that, I’m afraid.”

Maxine tossed the lid off the man-hole and dropped down without looking. Caitlin rolled her eyes, held her nose and leapt down after her.

**

Caitlin, careful not to touch anything, steeled herself, holding her breath. Maxine had disappeared down a concrete bypass. As Caitlin approached, she noticed the smell first. Blood, Bile and other things she couldn’t identify. She gagged and covered her mouth and nose. As she approached a humming, feeble wet sound, she saw Maxine waiting for her, offering an encouraging wave before she disappeared into some slimy looking tendrils. Caitlin gagged again and paused, looking at the tendrils in greater detail.

“They’re nerve endings,” Maxine said, poking her head through the dangling fibres, “I grew them myself. They help baffle our presence here and dampen our own abilities.”

Maxine grinned at Caitlin and parted them enough for her to slide through.

She shimmied as best she could through the tiny opening, without touching the tendrils, but a few brushed against her skin. She could feel a sensation not unlike going to the toilet or blowing her nose. The feeling of something being relieved, rather than lost.

“God,” she said, leaning against a smooth wall for support. Maxine crouched and slid an arm around her lifting her up.

“It’s disorientating at first. You don’t realise how much background noise to your abilities there are. Little micro-actions that are constantly happening. For me, it’s the general noise of the organisms that live on my skin and in my hair and the parasites in my blood and stomach and lungs.”

Caitlin stared at Maxine for a moment and pushed herself away, back against the wall.

“I’ve made a terrible mistake,” she said, sucking in a deep breath, “You’re insane. You’re ill.”

Maxine gave her a hard look, stepping up in front of her and taking a hand.

“I’m not ill. It’s the whole world that is ill. I’m just one of the few who can see it.”

Caitlin studied Maxine for a moment before she moved away.

“You believe that, don’t you?”

Maxine nodded, pulling herself away from Caitlin and heading downstairs made from a shiny, white substance. Caitlin put a foot down experimentally on it and steadied herself with outstretched arms.

“They’re not steep.”

Caitlin stepped down again and found the stairs to be stable. She continued behind Maxine at a more sedate pace.

“Today has been kind of crazy for me,” Caitlin said. Maxine waved a hand over her shoulder.

“Yeah, born into the position of new powers, potentially a new place in the world, able to feel things you never felt before and having seen several people attack someone who connected with her, our dazzlingly beautiful heroin still doubts her saviour's mental stability!”

“Hey,” Caitlin said, stopping, “You don’t get to say things like that and I don’t get to assume that you’re not insane because you allegedly saved me. That isn’t how the real world works.”

Maxine stifled a laugh with her hand and sat down at a large desk, facing a huge, taught, semi-transparent wall. Caitlin spanned the distance between them and started to notice notices. The Desk was made from wood but was covered in thick, throbbing veins pulsing with fluids of dark red, purple and a sickly yellow. The wall itself was being fed or was feeding, the lines, and softly undulating. Caitlin could see it was made from stretched skin.

“I’m sorry,” Maxine said, barely covering her smile, “But you saw a man make people from Ink today, blow up a street with his mind and felt a connection to the vast Blue. You saw me bleed from my face and jump a distance further than any human. You’ve seen Spider people on the TV and you’re saying that this isn’t real life?”

Maxine let out a yelping belly laugh and shook her head.

“Caitlin, it stopped being “real life” a long time ago. This is something beyond that and believe me, I apparently know Insanity.”

Maxine leant back in her chair and gestured towards the wall.

“This is everything I have on Sunderland. The connections between her, her company, natural disasters, disappearances of people like us, like my Dad, and the natural world.”

The wall was covered in scribblings in Charcoal and Sharpie, surrounding pictures pinned with drawing pins like tiny literary constellations. Twine, wire and some of the fibres Maxine had grown were connecting the dots together.

Caitlin stepped forward and touched a newspaper clipping about a woman in India who could talk to Mountains.

“I remember this one – It was in the local news, about some new religion springing out of it.”

Maxine nodded and got up to join Caitlin. She directed Caitlin to the centre of a complicated whorl of twine.

“This all centres around December 1999. It’s when Sunderland Snr stepped down, disappearing from the limelight, and his Daughter stepped up.”

She made a sweeping gesture down to a family photo of her, with her Mother, Father and Brother.

“This is when it all went wrong. December 29th, my Dad disappeared with his friends Jenny, Alec, Jack and Shen.”

Caitlin eyed the picture. Her Brother looked ill, thin and pale. The waxy look people with a terminal illness take on. Her Mother looked sad and her Father angry.

“What is wrong with your Brother?” Caitlin asked.

Maxine eyed her with a hard stare and snatched the photograph from Caitlin’s fingers.

“He died.”

Caitlin’s eyes widened for a moment.

“I’m so sorry. How did he…?”

“Sunderland killed him. I’m sure of it. I don’t have any proof yet, but I know it’ll be in that office. I know it.”

Caitlin felt weary suddenly and stumbled towards the chair. She dropped into it and held her head, sweat beading in her temples. She felt utterly sick to her stomach.

Maxine stared hard at the wall, a series of complicated notes and links which the more Caitlin stared at them the less they made sense. Natural disasters happening thousands of miles away, linked to the disappearances of her Father and his friends, to Sunderland.

“I am so, so sorry for your loss, Maxine,” Caitlin said, shaking her head slowly, “I know it’ll never fix the pain but…do you think this will help you? To move on? You might never prove this, or the proof might not be…”

Maxine held up a hand and stared at Caitlin.

“There are two of us now. We can get the proof for this. We can clear my Father’s name for my mother, we can fix Cliff. We can…”

Maxine paused, biting back something.

“We’re going back in, Caitlin. You and me. We’re going to raid Sunderland.”