Interlude Forty-Six: Agni (Patreon)

Agni had grown to like Daisy Cullen. The rescued slave / Phoenix Company commander had a no-nonsense attitude about her which helped to get things done.

Also, unlike some people, Daisy wasn’t squeamish about doing what was necessary. Or foolish enough to deny the need for it.

Even if the ‘necessary’ things tended to be a little, well, on the darker side of things…

“The prisoners are awake,” Daisy informed her. “Six of them, four men, two women.”

“Anyone in particular you want for the demonstration?” Agni asked.

Daisy shrugged. “Take your pick. They’re all the same to me.”

Face hidden by her helmet, Agni smiled. “The policeman. That tends to make an impression.”

The prisoners were huddled together in a storeroom Phoenix Company had temporarily commandeered as a holding cell. Two Guards watched them, HEPARs ready and primed. It was a far cry from a proper jail cell, the ultrahuman reflected, but here in the middle of the Colombian jungle, they would have to make do with what was available.

To onlookers, there was nothing distinguishing Agni from the other Guards as she stepped into the storeroom. Same jet-black armor, same helmet, no special symbols to mark her as an ultra.

Most of the prisoners flinched anyway. The man in a torn Colombian National Police uniform, however, stared at her with undisguised hatred.

She sat herself down on the chair. “Capitan Miguel de Haverra,” she announced. “Member of the National Police. How would your superiors react if they knew you were out here?”

The man sneered at her. “I see you know who I am. Then you should know that you have interrupted an important police operation, madam. I would advise you to leave immediately, before this becomes a diplomatic incident.”

“A … diplomatic incident?”

“You are Americans interfering in an internal Colombian matter. This is none of your business.”

“I see,” Agni nodded. “I’m to assume the hundred-odd women and children you had locked up in cages are an important police operation.”

“You had best let us go, woman. The wrath of the Colombian Police is a fearful thing, indeed. Even your precious Belessar cannot shield you from that.”

“I’ll be happy to let you go, just as soon as you tell me …. everything. Where these prisoners were headed, who paid you the money, your transportation lines, your contacts.” Agni’s tone was mild. “Otherwise, you won’t leave this place alive.”

Haverra sneered. “You don’t have the guts. So stop pretending we should be scared of you, woman, and let us go. Everyone knows you all only survive because of Belessar.”

Agni reflected that she wouldn’t get a better line than that.

A tiny flame flickered into existence on her palm.

In the low light of the storeroom, it shone bright.

The prisoners gasped. A thud to the rear showed that the younger of the women had fainted outright.

Haverra had turned deathly pale. “You’re not her,” he gasped, desperate. “You can’t be her.”

In response, Agni left the flame suspended in mid-air. With a mental command, she willed it to grow.

The ball of fire grew.

Now, it was the size of a tennis ball, a steady, burning blaze that lit the room.

“I am Agni,” the ultrahuman announced, in the same mild tone. “You’ll tell my friends in Phoenix Company whatever they want to know. If they’re satisfied, we’ll let you go.” She paused. “You, Miguel, will get to stay in a nice safe prison. As for the rest of you?” She shrugged. “You get to convince the authorities that you’re happy, cooperative witnesses in taking down this cartel. You’ll sing for your supper, and thank the government for the free accommodation they’re going to give you for a very long time.” She focused on Miguel. “Try to confess to all of your crimes, Miguel - the drugs, the bribery, the trafficking. Because as long as you’re in jail, you’re safe. The day you get free, however, is the day I’ll come for you. And in case you think your friends will protect you from me...” She shrugged. “Ask Zaka how that worked out for him.”

Stammering in terror, Haverra began to talk.

Half an hour later, Agni handed Daisy the recording chip. “Sixty-eight names. Details of fourteen secret bank accounts, used for transferring funds. Eleven members of the National Police involved, with Haverra being the ringleader.”

“That’ll make Major Esteban very happy, I suppose. He’s been trying to find evidence against Haverra’s ring for years.”

“And you’re going to hand him the whole lot in a single neatly wrapped up package.”

Daisy nodded. “We need to cooperation of the local police, Agni. Even if they have some traitors in their ranks.”

Donna Bartoli strolled up. “Perimeter’s secure. Oh, and you’ll never believe what Belessar’s done.”

“Not shown up here, I hope?”

“No, it’s at the Convention. Belessar just schooled Supreme and a bunch of junior ultras he had following him around. The social media channels are all abuzz with it.”

“... You’re getting Facebook out here?”

“Don’t be silly. Instagram. The memes are just too funny.”

“Did Supreme attack Belessar?” inquired Daisy.

“Seems like they got into a friendly spar. Which lasted less than ten seconds, according to the news. Belessar trumped them like the chumps they are.” Donna snorted. “So much for the ‘legacy of Skymaster’ crowd…”

“Did they remark on the fact that we weren’t with him?”

“I don’t think anyone would expect you to be,” said Agni. “Especially not in your gear, and without it, you’re just a bunch of pretty-looking girls.”

“Aww, thank you Agni. You’re too kind.”

Agni shrugged. “We chose to raid this camp while Belessar, Nanocloud, and the nicer of our colleagues show the flag at the convention. We’re not here to be kind.”

“Good is not always nice,” said Daisy, “and nice is not always good.”

Despite the face-concealing helmet, Donna managed to give off a perfect impression of rolling her eyes. “Yes, Commander, your exaltedness.”

“Returning to our mission objectives - how many people did we get free?”

“Seventy-six trafficking victims, most of whom are suffering from varying degrees of substance abuse. Three kidnappees being held for ransom, and one American doctor whom we can’t exactly figure out.”

“... Say again?”

“There’s a Dr. Reagan here, some sort of physician. According to the prisoners, he was being held along with them. Treated them when the guards beat them up.”

“But there’s more than that.”

“Dr. William Reagan. Lavinia remembers Bowers mentioning the name a few times. No context.”

“She’s sure of the name.”

“She knows she’s heard it somewhere. Nobody here recognizes him, though.”

“Possibly a contact? Has anyone spoken to him?”

“Thought I’d check with you first. I can also take a photo of him, pass it around, just in case someone knows him by a different name.”

A ball of fire coalesced in Agni’s hand. “Let’s have a chat with him first. I can be very persuasive.”

Dr. William Reagan did not look like a Grunter agent. Then again, Lewis Manetti had looked like a middle-aged schoolteacher…

The doctor had been cuffed to a radiator. Bruises across his face and a swollen eye testified to how well the guards had treated him.

That wasn’t proof of anything, of course. In the wake of Gravitic’s death and Grumman’s disappearance, the remnants of Grunters had dissolved into vicious infighting. Plenty of former colleagues had become current corpses.

Reagan, she reflected, might simply have fallen foul of one of the surviving gang lieutenants. Or he might be an innocent bystander. She had to figure out which.

She seated herself on a box and stared at the man. “Doctor Reagan. How are you?”

The man flinched. “I could use some painkillers. Who’re you?”

“You didn’t hear about the camp being liberated?”

“The guards worked me over pretty well last night. Then some folks came in with those fancy plasma guns and asked me my name. That’s all I know.” He coughed. “You with the police?”

“Sadly, no.” Agni leaned forward. “I belong to a little outfit called the Phoenix Company. You might have heard of us?”

Hope flickered in the man’s eyes, extinguished a second later. “I’m sorry, I don’t know you.”

“Oh, come on. Surely you’ve heard of us? We work with Belessar? Fight the aliens, fight those who are worse? Like, say, the Grunters?”

“Look, all I’ve ever done is refine and sell some drugs. Never worked with any other part of the business.”

“So you admit you’re a drug dealer?”

Dr. Reagan nodded. “I was one, yeah. Got out of the business about a year ago.”

“Then why are you here, in the middle of a gang hideout in Colombia?”

Reagan sighed. “Some of the Grunters in Mexico told the Chiracai that I was a good cook. They showed up at my hotel one morning and gave me a choice. I could come with them and cook, or they’d track down my family and cut them up.”

“A likely story. Did they get your family?”

Reagan shook his head. “My wife and kids hate me. They’ve changed their name and gone underground. I couldn’t find them even if I wanted to.”

Agni shrugged. “I suppose you could tell me about the Chiracai, then. Who their contacts are, where they get their victims from, and how they’re linked to the Grunters.”

“Don’t know anything about that. I just cooked.”

“If you’re such a good cook, what’re you doing in here?”

“Never said I was good. The Grunters thought that, though, and when I couldn’t perform the Chiracai put me here.”

Agni pursed her lips. “You know who I am?”

Reagan shrugged. “No idea.”

“Maybe this’ll jog your memory.” She let the fire flicker to life in her hand.

Reagan sighed in relief. “Oh. Thank God.”

Surprise cascaded through her.  “Excuse me?”

“You’re her. Agni.”

“... You know who I am, then.”

“Yeah. You’re with Phoenix Company, then? It was just a rumour.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know who they were?”

Dr. Reagan coughed. “Can’t be too sure. The Grunters have tried to trick people before. Wearing a full-black getup isn’t hard; wouldn’t take a lot to fake the Phoenix Company look.”

“They’ve tried to fake being Phoenix Company?”

“Yeah, but they can’t fake that.” Reagan glanced meaningfully at the flame. “They say you’re Belessar’s right-hand woman. That the Guard goes where you tell them to go, kills who you tell them to kill.”

“They do remember I’m the senior ultrahuman, right?”

“Meaning no offence, but you have a reputation for … other things. Belessar has a reputation for killing Grunters in job lots.”

Agni cocked her head. “Nice to know. So, want to tell me why you’re so relieved? Generally my identity provokes a very different reaction.”

“I understand. You’re probably close enough to Belessar to know all his secrets, right?”

“... Perhaps. What’s it to you?”

“You can tell him that Jimmy and Clarice are safe.”

Agni leaned back. “Is that so. And why would he care?”

“... Oh. He hasn’t told you.” Reagan coughed. “I’m sorry. Belessar saved my life a year ago, saved Jimmy and Clarice too…. Jimmy still thinks highly of him.”

“... You know Belessar’s identity.”

“I don’t, I swear. Jimmy does, but he’s under strict orders not to tell anyone. If Belessar wants the rest of the money, I can arrange that too, I only sent half because I wasn’t sure how much he wanted to keep.”

“I see.” Agni could feel a headache coming on. “What were your dealings with the Grunters? Before Belessar?”

“Used to supply them product. That’s it, I swear. I had no idea what was going on at the mansion….”

A part of her felt sorry for the man. Drug dealer or not, he’d been a pawn in much larger games…

The other part, the rational part of her, whispered what she had to do.

Tie up loose ends.

Protect Belessar’s identity.

“Dr. Reagan,” she said. “Do you actually not know where your family is? Are they well-hidden enough?”

The man’s expression became guarded. “They’ve gone to ground. I have a way of finding them, but not unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Agni extinguished the flame. As usual, the familiar twinge that accompanied quenching a fire ran through her arm.

Her power really didn’t like it when she used it in reverse. She’d discovered this the hard way, the first time she’d tried to quench a fire she started – and nearly killed herself in the process.

Any time she tried to quench a flame, a part of the energy would feed back into her. Anything from one per cent – for the smaller flames – to one-tenth of one per cent, for the largest ones.

And naturally, it was the only thing that could burn her.

She’d taken to calling it ‘backlash’. It would hit with a delay – usually seconds – but it always came. Longer for larger flames, faster if she teleported. Less and less as she grew stronger.

Brahampton had left her with a massive, splitting headache for hours. The memes from the incident were funny, though, which made it all worthwhile.

“Doctor,” she murmured. “You cannot let anyone – anyone at all – know that your son knows Belessar. Do you understand?”

Reagan swallowed. “I understand.”

“I don’t think you do. I may be Belessar’s ally. Or I may be working against him. You have no way of knowing.”

Reagan’s face fell. “I thought…”

“You didn’t think far enough. This is not your local gang war anymore – Belessar is one of the world’s most powerful ultras. His enemies have the resources to run deep-cover intelligence operations on a scale that rivals the CIA. Turning a Phoenix Company operative would be child’s play for them.” She stood up, towering over the beaten man. “So would breaking your mind, finding your son’s location, kidnapping and torturing him until he reveals everything he knows.”

The doctor sagged. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re a loose end, Doctor. And there are only two ways I can deal with a loose end.”

Reagan swallowed. “I vote for the one which doesn’t involve burning?”

Agni snorted. “You don’t get a vote, but I’m feeling generous today. I’ll arrange for an ‘accident’ to happen, making it look like you died while escaping. Go to ground, and don’t resurface – ever.”