[Sama in the MU] Part 6

« Part 5 | Index | Part 7 »

                A foot came down loudly.

                Telford Porter instinctively tried to teleport away at the somehow ominous noise. The girls of the brothel where he had just appeared were staring behind him in fear, and that had done everything it could for his reflexes to try to send him away.

                They failed.

                It felt like his powers had run into a steel wall. The parting of space, the sense of instantaneous motion and readjustment, of flowing through reality like it was just a misty painting, slammed into the middle of his head and he staggered back in shock.

                A hand clamped down on his head and prevented him from falling, and even moving. He could feel some sharp edges from it, and it didn’t move at all, lifting him right up on his toes without appreciable effort. He swatted at the hand instinctively, and it still didn’t move it at all... and the shocking jolts brought yipes of pain from him, and he stopped doing that hastily.

                “Girls,” a woman’s voice said from behind him, smooth and rich and making his heart skip. He definitely wanted to see the owner of it.

                The prostitutes hastily left the room, with only partially apologetic eyes. He was a good customer, but whoever was in here with him was superhuman, and there was absolutely no way they were going to piss her off for him.

                Something sharp stabbed into his neck. It was only a pinprick, but he clutched at the hand behind it, and like before, was simply ignored. “Who, who are you?” he blurted out in terror, a feeling that had only come up when he had been facing a telepath who could stop him from leaving. Now, his power didn’t work at all...

                The hand withdrew, another shock flinging his hands away, and there was immediately a burning sensation on the back of his neck. He gasped as something cold and powerful seemed to drill right into his mind and soul... and then the same thing happened again, and again, and again, claws of energy drilling deep into him as the burns were reapplied down his spine.

                It hurt so bad he couldn’t even scream, only writhe.

                “Remove us to your LA safehouse,” the woman said calmly, and her words clamored in his brain, impossible to disobey. He reached out with his power, found the wall removed, and shifted the two of them away.

---

                The non-descript safe house had comfortable furnishings and places to put his stuff. A lawn service kept it mowed, there was nothing remarkable on it from the outside, and he was never seen entering and exiting it. If he wanted to spend time outside, he had other places he could go to do that.

                The hand on his head released. He gasped as he fell to his feet, stepping away and spinning around, and reaching out –

                He stumbled again, as the wall was back, and it felt like he had rammed his head into steel again.

                “Teleport to Phoenix,” she ordered him.

                Her voice was a wave. He could only obey, and he reached out, and was gone.

---

                The sun was high as he popped in atop one of his favorite taverns. He had only a second of relief, when he realized it couldn’t be so simple.

                -Go to Miami.- the smooth voice /rippled through his mind, and he could only obey.

---

                Six jumps later, he was back in his flat, and thoroughly cowed. The masked woman all in black, no skin showing, only waist-length black hair and a figure he could only drool over, was waiting for him calmly.

                “Sit down,” she told him, and he couldn’t resist, stepping over to his couch and seating himself, his face ashen.

                The mask peeled away, unwoven and vanishing before his eyes, along with the rest of the concealing one-piece, rewoven and turning into a leather jacket, an abdomen-free tee showing some killer abs, comfortable jeans, and stylish short boots.

                “Dynamo?” he recognized the blue-black Mask and glowing yellow eyes instantly.

                “Yes,” she said. “And you are Telford Porter, the Vanisher, criminal teleporter, extortionist, thief, murderer, peeping tom, voyeur, rapist... do you want me to ask you what all your crimes are, and if you are worthy of the death penalty?” she asked in a rich, smooth voice that somehow sounded like silk sliding over steel.

                He swallowed. “No.” Because he was pretty sure he deserved to die for some of the things he’d tried to do.

                “I’m aware that you think you are special because you are a teleporter. As you can see, there are ways to shut a teleporter down, and in which case, you are just a normal man who can be killed as easily as any other. You aren’t any more special than which is required to neutralize your ability.”

                He swallowed at the verbal blow. “What... what did you do to me?” he asked as respectfully as he could.

                “I have Branded you. It allows me to track where you are at all times, and it serves as an unbroken, close-range telepathic conduit while crippling your ability to resist my commands. Now, I don’t actually need it to cripple your mental defenses, because my will is several leagues above your own, but it does mean that I need about the same amount of will to get you to obey me as I do to flex my little finger.”

                She lifted said finger up and down. He swallowed as he stared.

                “Why?” he asked, despite himself. “I’ve never done anything to you...”

                “You are aware you threatened to start a nuclear war with stolen launch codes, right?” she replied grimly. He opened his mouth, closed it. “You were ready to risk killing billions for mere money. As one of those billions, I tend to take that very, very personally.”

                He swallowed again, and tried to laugh it off. “There’s no way they wouldn’t pay...” he began.

                “You will never deny responsibility for your actions in front of me!” she Declared, with a razor in her voice that had him sitting bolt upright as it slashed into his mind, and he knew that would never do that again. Beads of sweat began to fall from his face.

                “Give me your honest opinion. If you were the rest of the world, what would you to do a person who has done the things you have done?”

                He wanted to swallow, wanted to prevaricate, wanted to divert the topic, and found razors going through his mind and his mouth moving without him, “I should probably be killed as a danger to humanity,” he admitted, to his horror.

                She just nodded slowly, looking him right in the eyes. “All right. Here’s your second ongoing order: If you willingly perform a malicious act against another human without an extremely good reason, you will teleport yourself into empty space beyond the reach of the planet as far as you can go, and you will remain there until you die.”

                Telford Porter went quite pale. “I, I, I...”

                “Now, then, are you ready to begin your new life?” she asked him coolly.

                He nodded very slowly.

                “I am putting together a team. It’s going to be composed of some good people. There’s going to be fighting against some extremely dangerous entities. There’s going to be charity, public works, service to humanity, all that silly stuff.

                “They are going to need a way to get around, to get to places that are in danger quickly, and to get out of those places quickly.” He flushed despite himself. “Naturally, that is where you come in.”

                “I...” he wanted to say something, and he could tell that she wasn’t stopping him, but he couldn’t muster up the willpower under her stare.

                “I am aware you are a coward. I am not going to send you into a fight.” Despite himself, he breathed a sigh of relief. “I am, however, going to be using you as search and rescue, specifically evacuating civilians from scenes of danger if possible. That should be well within your capabilities.”

                He thought about that, winced, but nodded. “Okay...”

                “I am aware you want money, money, money, to get the better things in life. You will be paid for your time and the value of your services by secondary means. I will be setting up an exclusive teleport service within the borders of countries, and between them with prior government approval. Your clients will be public figures, not criminals, and you will be charging them ten thousand dollars plus two thousand dollars a head to move between locations you also personally approve of.

                “The number of rides a day you will provide will be completely up to you, and may be interrupted by your other duties, so we’ll build in some flex-time. However, the concept is already proving to be popular among the second-tier corporations who find it expensive to afford private jets and don’t want to waste time traveling to and fro... and rich people who don’t want to ride public transportation. With a price discount, government officials who have to fly back and forth over long distances could also be a regular source of business.

                “Without effort you can probably earn a hundred thousand dollars a day.”

                His eyes popped open a bit. “And I get to keep it?”

                “You need to pay your booking agent, and we keep a twenty percent commission. Someone has to clear things with SHIELD and the governments involved. But, yes, the rest you can keep, although you will be taxed on it, and it will all be legitimate money.”

                He winced at the thought of taxes, but literally, he could make as much money as he wanted to. “Can I charge extra for rush services?” he asked.

                “Of course. Also, we are negotiating with various hospitals over billing any emergency cases you deliver to them as ambulance deliveries, and splitting the fees with you... which will all be donated to charity, but will give you some very good public approval. The flip side is that you will be attending lessons and getting yourself certified as an emergency medical technician.

                “You will put aside your identity as the Vanisher, unless it is useful for us to have you assume it, and your codename will be Evac.

                “I am aware that in the future events may happen that free you from your Brands, and while I will order you not to directly seek them out, if they happen, they happen. If at that time you chose to take revenge on me for sparing your life and attempting to turn your life into something productive that is not a danger to others... I will immediately and without warning teleport to your location and kill you on the spot.

                “Am I clear on everything I’ve said, Mr. Porter?”

                “Yes, ma’am,” he replied despite himself, feeling colder than he ever had in his life.

                She flipped a sheet out of nowhere, handed it to him. “Your EMT classes start tomorrow. Passing them successfully is to be your entire focus. In light of the intellect you’ve displayed in the past, it should be a walk in the park. When your classes are done for the day, I will have other things for you to do in preparation for your debut as Evac.

                “Also, while you are taking classes, get yourself checked in for the stage two syphilis you’ve contracted.”

                His jaw dropped, worked a few times, and he lowered his head despite himself. “Yes, ma’am,” he swallowed, ears flaming in humiliation.

                She tapped her temple. “I will be in touch. Stay clean, Mr. Porter, and you will be rich, famous, respected, and hobnobbing with the elite. Fuck up, and I will kill you for what you have done.

                “Impress me.”

                And the air rippled, and smoothly, seamlessly, she was gone.

                His jaw dropped. He could feel the resonance of what she had just done.

                That was his power, his ability to teleport! But it had been so tight, so subtle, so controlled, way different than anything he had ever done... how had she done that?!

                Telford found himself looking down at his feet, his mind racing. He could feel the manacles on him, shackles on the unlimited freedom he once had, even if there was nothing material on his hands and feet.

                But at the same time, there were doors opening in front of him that he’d never imagined. He was horrified at the loss of his liberty, very glad he wasn’t dead... and somehow anticipating where this would all go.

                Damn. This Dynamo had come out of nowhere and was playing real hardball. Definitely no bleeding-heart super-babe like he had imagined...

« Part 5 | Index | Part 7 »