[Fiction] Echoes of Thunder

[z-Sean McCline]

Sean was angry tonight, full of frustrated anger and rage. So his first response was harsh. "She's tied tightly into Wakinyan's world, so tightly. The only thing they don't share is monogamy," Sean said, his voice hard with all his supressed emotions. "Wakinyan had a baby with Slattern. Use that aspect of him; force her to remove herself of the part of him that she finds unpleasant, then cut out the rest of him.

"Of course, that's just my suggestion," Sean added, his eyes glinting. "You're the psychic."

[Iron Rose]

Do I tell them what I know? Her past is unknown to everyone here but Liz and I, this would be a betrayal of that trust. The voice returned, its rich sound something she knew she'd heard before, but couldn't place. She might die Rianna if you do not. It's alright, if it will help her, then tell them.

She came to a decision quickly and nodded to the others.

"Try to have her focus on Renee Ward, and on Melinda Harris. Try to get her to remember that first day deep in the Rockies when she was being hunted, and those who came together to rescue her. The Tiger that spirited her away to safety, the Knight that told her the real Truth, The sisters that welcomed her into their family with open arms. Get her to remember before she was a Goddess to the Lakota, back when she was just a young telepath."

She hoped that would be enough. "She wasn't always like this, try to make her remember that."

[Lou Anne Burgess]

”You’re the psychic” Lou Anne wondered what she could possibly suggest that was more helpful than what Sean had offered..... and then Rianna spoke.

“While Rianna’s suggestion can be a good one, be careful with it. Wakinyan came to me a few months ago very concerned about Falling Star. I don’t know what specifically happened because he couldn’t or wouldn’t say and I’m bound by confidentiality not to say anything specific. However, she apparently suffered some sort of mental trauma while he was away on his walkabout. If you go too far back, that trauma could exacerbate this one.”

Lou Anne pondered for a moment. “How about finding out what was happening just before this trauma hit her, maybe get some better clue as to the specifics that caused this. If you can find that out, then you can back track to where this snarled identity problem with Wakinyan started and perhaps undo some of the snarl from a safer distance. You can then leverage that distance with the other identities that Rianna mentioned to try to pry her out of the amalgam, or at least give her the perspective to see she’s separate from him, thus letting her own mind do the work of separating them. Beyond that, I’m really not sure about suggestions, at least not until you have more information.”

[OOC I originally posted just after Ironrose, not knowing she'd posted. If you read the original, please re-read this."

[Tawny 'Codex' March]

Tawny closed her eyes and twisted the vision, bringing it into inky blackness filled with diamond stars for a total of ten heartbeats. The heartbeats echoed like a drum within a meditation circle, grounding Ptesan-Wi until she could spin another vision.

This vision was a library filled with depictions of the (possible) nova's life, everything that made up her life that Tawny could dredge up in a few moments. It was unsurprising that Samhra was amongst them, and Tawny pursed her lips at the sight of the winged nova, but continued with her work.

She gently disentangled the young woman from the wreckage of a broken gryphon statue and looked down on her. Sometimes, secrets needed to be shared.

*Hello, my name's Codex. I know what it's like to rebuild my mind after it was shattered through no fault of my own. I think we can help each other. Would you like to, please?*

Because the hologram was visual, no one could hear what the small, creamy-skinned beauty with the flickering sapphire gaze said, but if they could read lips, they'd know.

[Ptesan-Wi]

Ptesan-Wi looked around, completely disoriented. She had been fighting for her life... no, Wakinyan's... no, she was in bed sick... it all was a hopeless jumble, but now there was this unfamiliar room filled with familiar moments, and the voice(?) of someone who was a stranger, but who felt remarkably familiar.

*I... where am I? Do I know you? And... oh god, mihinga ki! He was in pain, and now I can't feel him!*

Both within and without the dream, both her breathing and heartrate accelerated drastically.

[Lou Anne Burgess]

Concerned as she was with Falling Star’s physical condition, she was acutely aware of the physiological change that overcame the young woman. Her breathing and heart rate shot up prompting Lou Anne to glance once again at the representation of her mindscape. Seeing the panic on the young woman’s face Lou Anne leaned over towards Rianna and asked as quietly as possible. “Would it be safer to assume baseline standards when accounting for shocks to her system?”

Rianna nodded quickly, Lou Anne nodded absently in response, obviously thinking about the situation. She raised her voice so that those in the room could hear her hopefully without disturbing the blonde telepath. “In a best case, she’ll be done in a few minutes and Falling Star will be fine and I’m concerned for nothing. Which I think we all want to be the case. But we have to be prepared for worse. Worst case, this could take hours or longer and we may have to take measures to make sure she stays healthy enough for Blondie to bring her back. No offense Sean, but we can’t assume you can do that the whole time. So, if she’s not stable in fifteen minutes or so, who knows CPR and who can run to the hospital for supplies if we need them?”

[MindFlayer]

The robed figure was surprised by the blackness, and moved to hide behind a large reading chair as soon as the library formed. While it finished its work, it listened to the two women talking. The final repair was done to what in this new mindscape appeared as an Opnet receiver when two things happened. The climate in the library changed. While there was still panic and concern, there was a sense that things were better, that Ptesan-Wi was more herself. Simultaneously, from behind a large reading chair, strains of Native American Flute music broke the silence announcing the presence of the third person in the room.

The figure silently cursed its luck. Was there a point to staying hidden any longer? It pulled the hood a bit lower to better conceal its facial features, stood straighter where it had hunched down before and stepped out of the concealment of the chair. It was dressed in a dark hooded robe, the hood fell in such a way that none of its face was visible. The voice, which addressed both women, was thin and whispery betraying nothing of the identity of the speaker.

*I apologize for having stayed concealed so long, but I had preferred to remain anonymous. I came in answer to your call for help. This is yours, in repairing it, I have healed a part of you.* The figure put the Opnet receiver which finished playing its haunting music on the seat of the chair and stepped back. The hood turned towards the blonde telepath who had created the library. *I can leave, or if you need, I can assist you. Either way, that work is done and will perhaps make your task a bit easier.*

[Tawny 'Codex' March]

Tawny looked over at the stranger, shadow-text flickering through the irises of deep sapphire eyes. *I'd appreciate the help, but be wary of the watchers. The male redhead in particular has a strong distrust of me.*

Okay, there was some pretty good reason for that, but still...

*Ptesan-Wi, there's no real easy way to put this. Wakinyan is dead.*

She sent a private message to the strange figure. *Prepare for backlash; this won't be pretty.*

Tawny braced herself, preparing a psychic rope to restrain the Indian woman if need be.

[Ptesan-Wi]

The confusion fell away from the neo-Lakota woman's face as the shock of the statement set in. Wakinyan, her mate, mihinga ki, whom she loved without condition or limit, was...

Soundlessly, she sank to the floor, holding knees to her chest and rocking slightly as she silently wept, feeling very, very alone.

And in the real world, tears began to flow down a bruised and tired face.

[z-Sean McCline]

"I'll get the equipment." Sean's voice rose once he realized Ptesan-Wi was crying. "I know my way around a hospital; I can talk medical stuff enough to get the equipment, and I can carry it. Ptesan-Wi is safe with you guys... or at least, she'd better be."

I'm not running away from the crying girl, Sean emphasized to himself. We need the equipment. Probably. Hopefully not. "It'd better to have it than not."

[Lou Anne Burgess]

Still talking quietly, Lou Anne addressed Sean. “Okay, but let’s not rush just yet,” Lou Anne nodded towards the image. “I think it’s safe to bet that Blondie created the dark figure as a proxy messenger to tell her the news and she’s now mourning Wakinyan. Her heart rate and breathing are slowing back down, so healing her again now, before she wakes up might be nice, but I don’t think she’s bad enough to require it at the moment.”

She turned addressing the blonde woman more directly. “Can you give us a warning a little before she wakes up if that’s possible Blondie?”

[MindFlayer]

The figure heeded the warning and prepared for a backlash from Ptesan-Wi. Following the other telepath’s lead, it prepared to help the young woman through the worst of what she yet had to face. *Ptesan-Wi, there are people here to help you, people that care quite a bit about you. Lean on them for support and they can help you through this. You may feel alone, but you are not, otherwise you would still be at your home, not thousands of miles away, surrounded by friends.*

The figure turns to the blonde telepath and nods. Sending only to the blonde telepath the robed figure replied, *I sense the love and concern, but am worried about the pervasiveness of the anger from those around her. I’m ready.*

[Tawny 'Codex' March]

Tawny rippled reality about her again, changing the vision to a clear expanse of summer-brown grass and endless blue skies, the scent of heat and dust on the wind. Her own appearance altered subtly, becoming older, more careworn, her garments fading into tan and rose-pink.

*You aren't alone, Ptesan-Wi. I'm sorry about what happened to your husband. Don't let grief make you lose yourself too.*

[Ptesan-Wi]

Through the tears, Ptesan-Wi saw the shifting landscape, and her sharp mind pulled her back to awareness of something beyond grief, quickly taking in the factors at hand and putting them together.

*You're in my mind, pulling me out of shock from feeling his death, aren't you? And you... you look like Samhra, but without her various evolutions, and while your mind feels like hers, it is not hers. Who are you?*

Glancing over at the hooded figure that now stood out like a sore thumb on the open, sunlit prairie, she added, *And for that matter, who are you? You don't seem familiar at all, though.... And then, realization of something - or rather, it's absence - kicked in. Why don't you have a quantum static reaction to me like this non-Samhra does?

[Tawny 'Codex' March]

The woman who looked like Samhra before her various aberrations fluffed back her blonde hair, text-shadowed sapphire eyes gleaming with a strange amusement.

*I'm the real Codex, not Samhra,* she explained gently. *She was a quantum copycat and shapeshifter the Project implanted with my personality after I went into full-blown autism. And to the best of my knowledge, me now is a composite of the old me and whatever the Project dumped in my head after they put me back together.*

[Lou Anne Burgess]

Okay, what are we seeing now? "Do any of you recognize that?"

Lou Anne continued to monitor Falling Star's vital signs, the young woman seemed to be returning to normal. "I think Blondie is having some success." She wiped the tears gently from Falling Star's face and added. "Unless she relapses somehow, now might be a good time for a pre-waking healing Sean."

[MindFlayer]

The hooded figure listened while the blonde telepath told her confusing account of whom she was and wasn’t. Then the Indian woman’s gaze turned to it. *I hope you will forgive me if I don’t show my face, it is disconcerting to say the least and I'd rather not offer you more shocks right now. I am known as Mindflayer.* It adjusted the hood a bit higher, the sleeves of the robe falling back showing somewhat wrinkled flesh the deep, dull purple color of a bad bruise. The flesh at the neck, now visible in the daylight had a similar color.

Privately to Ptesan-Wi is said. Though Ptesan-Wi could not see anything still hidden by the hood, she felt a smile as she was told.*It is best if we discuss this sometime later in a place with fewer ears. If you don’t know the reason, I can educate you then. For now, I will say that you and I are more similar to each other than either of us is to our companion.*

Again speaking to both it answered Ptesan-Wi’s first question. *I arrived in response to your mental cry of pain. In truth, you were not in shock from his death, you were still locked within the death throes that he tried, but failed to block from you. You were repeating them over and over. I’m not certain that any thinking part of you had yet realized that he was dead. Without intervention, you most certainly would have died before you could realize it. Now that you are safely out of that vicious loop though, yes, we are here to help you through that shock and back into consciouness where friends are waiting for you.*

[Ptesan-Wi]

Ptesan-Wi tried to pull herself together. A Codex who wasn't Samhra, but was copied by Samhra; this 'Mindflayer' who, if she was right, was another mesmerist; the overwhelming grief and utter loss of Wakinyan's death... it was so much to take in at once.

And yet, she reminded herself, it is my burden to bear, and bear it I will.

Focusing, she pulled the grief, the anguish, the anger and confusion together in a special place in her mind. She drew it together... and ensnared it in a trap, sealing it there with stone cliffs and deep ravines and wicked thorns.

*These things will be dealt with when time permits,* she promised the two visitors to her mind, *but I am needed now by my people. I thank you both for your help... and would like to speak with you both, together and apart, sometime soon.*

Eyes fluttered open, deep brown orbs for but a moment, then glowing the azure blue of the Dakota skies. By sheer force of will, the injured girl sat up with dignity, a soft white aura coming to life as she did... and a disconcerting static was felt by all of the novas there.

Turning to look at the gathered people in the room, the bruised and battered Lakota "spoke" to all present with a mental voice - gentle but strong - that carried gravitas far beyond her years; the same words were uttered from her lips at the barest of whispers. *"I am Ptesan-Wi, the White Buffalo Calf Woman returned to lead my People into the Fifth Age. I am Ptehehincalasanwin, Whope, daughter of Wi and the Moon and bringer of peace, and my People will need me now, in the wake of my husband's murder, the death of this incarnation of Wakinyan, more than they have in over a hundred years."*

[z-Sean McCline]

"Riiiiight," Sean said, before he could shut his damned mouth. He'd been so relieved and so glad to see her wake up, but when she went straight for 'the crazy Indian' schtick without even passing Go - the 'Go' otherwise known as not even acknowledging the death of the crazy Indian griffin I was married to without making it a political statement - he couldn't stop himself. I need to work on that.

To cover his gaffe, he took a step forward and asked, "Ptesan-Wi? Ready for another shot of the Sean hand-magic?" Hearing what he said, he fumbled out, "I mean, the healing. Thing. That I do by touching people." He stopped his babble as fast as he could.

[Ptesan-Wi]

Nodding slightly, Ptesan-Wi thought/whispered, *"Yes, and thank you, Sean."*

The whisper stopped, but the voice in his head continued, *For everything. I know that this seems cold to you, that it seems wrong, but I have to try to help the living before I can grieve for the dead, even though though the dead is the one who is most dear to my heart. Some of the People will want war for this, and that would bring nothing but more pain, more death. It hurts so much, but it has to be this way.*

[Lou Anne Burgess]

Lou Anne leaned in close to listen to the whispered words Falling Star spoke while finishing up checking her vitals. Lou Anne was aware that she had repelled yet another attempt to access her mind today. She looked around briefly, no one else seemed bothered, only to be listening, though considering her trouble in hearing the young Indian woman they had to be listening to more than her voice. Was Falling Star trying to contact me or was it someone else?

When Falling Star finished speaking Lou Anne grew worried. I guess this is why Wakinyan was worried, it sounds like she’s not just gone India Syndrome, she’s had a break of some sort. Keeping her thoughts from her face she smiled as Sean offered in a fashion quite different from his earlier confident self to heal the young woman.

“Falling Star, I don’t think you know me, I’m Dr. Burgess, you can call me Lou Anne. I believe Wakinyan told you about me. While I agree that your people may need you, you need to take care of yourself first. You need to eat and you need rest. Perhaps most importantly, Sean had made a good argument earlier that you may also be targeted for assassination like Wakinyan was and staying someplace safe at least in the very short term is probably best for both you and everyone else.”

Lou Anne collected her instruments putting them back away. “That said, if you feel more comfortable some place other than here in Boston, I believe your sister Rianna had mentioned moving to a secured location or almost anywhere if necessary.” Turning to Rianna she added. “After she’s eaten.”

She turned again to her patient. "By the way, unless you were trying to contact everyone mentally, I've just been attacked. Is there a reason to worry?" Her eyes flitted between Falling Star and the rather tired looking blonde.

[Tawny 'Codex' March]

Tawny stepped back with a nod and dismissed the illusion, revealing the room for what it was. Her eyes faded to their normal navy-blue and she seemed to visibly wilt, just a fraction. Lines of strain around her eyes and mouth made the resemblance to Samhra uncanny.

[MindFlayer]

The thin voice again sounded in Ptesan-Wi’s now wakeful mind. *I shall contact you in the next few weeks so that we may continue our discussion Ptesan-Wi. I leave you with a word of caution. A hint of frustration crept into the voice. Dr. Burgess is somewhat reluctant to trust the discipline of telepathy, it may be best to speak to her ears and not her mind if it is avoidable. Farewell for now.*

The owner of the voice smiled as they stirred from the stillness of projecting themself into the young woman’s mind.

[Ptesan-Wi]

Reluctantly, Ptesan-Wi nodded, even as the healing wonder of Sean pulsed through her body, even as she saw and felt the strange feeling of guilt wash over him. In a slightly louder voice, without the mental aspect, she spoke.

"You may be right. For someone to have..." She visible choked on the unspoken words, pain and sorrow sweeping across her features like an eclipse of the sun. "...to have done what they have done, I could be the next target. And I must admit that if it was not for Sean, my spirit would have fled this body by now. Perhaps... perhaps I can rest for a short time. Though, I do need to let the Sheriff know...."

She closed her eyes, and then, after a long moment where her brow furrowed and eyebrows raised, the eyes flew open with new shock and pain. "His mind... Sheriff WhiteElk's mind is gone. He's dead," she whispered in new horror.

[Lou Anne Burgess]

“I’m sorry to hear that Falling Star, he seemed to be a very nice man when I met him last year.” That might explain why the Tribal Police’s phone number was busy earlier. Lou Anne’s face was grim, it sounded like Sean’s concern that another assassin was going after others associated with Wakinyan might not be so far off. “We need to get you some food though and I suspect that what you’re used to eating isn’t around here. Sean had brought some chicken soup with him which we can heat up, but what other foods might you find either appealing or tolerable?”

Lou Anne got her answer and looked around the room. The tension had eased with Ptehehincalasanwin’s return to consciousness, but it was still there. She looked at the blonde telepath and stood to examine her arm where Sean had manhandled her earlier. “In the event that no one else will say it, thank you. Overall it was nice meeting you but please don’t do think that I'm not angry about your deception. It looks like your arm's okay, I can bring you up some pain killers if you'd like." Seeing the young woman shake her head, Lou Anne let go of her arm. With that, Lou Anne went downstairs to heat up the soup and order food for her patient and guests.

While Lou Anne busied herself in the kitchen, Rachel wandered by the bedroom door. Seeing everyone there and feeling the tense silence she offered with a somewhat nervously sheepish face but in a significantly friendlier voice than before. “I’m sorry about earlier, I guess your day has been worse than mine and I really should have been a little more understanding.” She stopped herself. “Um, I’m not used to seeing this many Novas at once in one place. Uh, I’ll see you all later.” She left the doorway, escaping the tension and walking downstairs to find Lou Anne.

“Is everyone here?” Rachel asked.

“I’m still expecting Preston, but otherwise, I think so for now. Can you call Mom and let her know that since she’s closer to the main drag, she’s going to be descended upon with delivery drivers. I’m trying to order enough food to feed this group and it’ll get there faster.”

“Sure.” Rachel busied herself with helping Lou Anne prepare a lap tray and get things ready for feeding the rest of their guests.

That task finally done, Lou Anne took the tray of soup, and a few sandwiches up to the bedroom. A collection of glasses of water and other juices floated behind her and positioned themselves on the bedside table within easy reach of Falling Star. “Here you go, if there’s anything else, let me know.” Turning to address the room at large Lou Anne spoke again. “I’ve ordered a variety of food for the rest of us, I’m sorry in advance if it’s not things you normally eat, but it’s dinner time here on the East Coast and I figured that with the stress, some of you might be hungry even if it’s not dinner time for you. You can help yourselves or not as you prefer when it arrives which should be shortly.”

And with that, the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it.” drifted up from the downstairs.

[Preston]

They rode together in silence. Selena could tell the Preston was off in that half step between the now and all those future possibilities that were waiting out there for all of them. His mannerisms had that distant, distracted look. For her part, Selena was really starting to miss her daughter. It was more than the usual ‘I wish I was with her, but I’m over here right now’ sensation that often crowded her mind. It was a sudden urge to be by Winter Blossom’s side, to hold her, take in her scent, and feel the infant’s breath upon her face. It made concentrating on driving difficult.

They made good time. Neil called his father upon arrival in Boston, but Preston directed his son to NRT headquarters instead of to Ptesan-Wi’s side. Preston saw no reason to further compact the number of novas already gathering there with one more worried voice of concern. Neil could come over later.

One advantage of having such a teleportation-heavy set of novas at Dr. Burgess’s residence was the decided lack of cars outside. The two Boston cops pulled up in front of the house and got out. Together, they scanned the surrounding area. No Press where in evidence, which was a godsend. It would be nice for at least one young nova inside to have a few more moments to her self. Most likely, these next few hours would be the last truly private moments afforded her for quite some time.

Unlike the Directive, Preston didn’t underestimate Ptesan-Wi’s inner strength and force of personality. What he saw was the creation of both a martyr and a far more devious and insightful political and spiritual leader than Wakinyan had ever had the capacity for being. In life, Wakinyan had never actively sought out a cause. Now he was one. He, and the life that should have been his, would be her cause and driving light. God help them all.

Selena hung back in her customary guardian stance while Preston went up to the door. Preston stepped up and rang the bell. They heard voices and movement from inside. Preston prepared himself for the cacophony of nova probabilities that were ready to spill over his mind. He steeled himself for the tattered lines of fate and prayed to God once more to provide him with some special insight that would save lives and somehow not make the death and suffering that had already happened today be in vain.

[MindFlayer]

<snip>

[Rachel Brenford]

Rachel opened the door smiling warmly to greet the two nova officers. "Good evening Officer Preston, Selena, it's nice to see you but I wish it were under better circumstances." She stepped back from the door motioning for them to come in. "I assume you know about Lou Anne's patient. She just took some soup up, and last I saw everyone is in her bedroom. It's at the top of the stairs on the right. I think there's coffee and tea upstairs already across the hall from her and we've ordered food sent to Mrs. Burgess' house. I think Lou Anne's planning to get it when it's all there."

She closed the door behind them when they had come in. "If you need anything else, let me know."

[Preston]

"If you need anything else, let me know."

Preston nodded. Selena said, "Sure thing, Doc."

The two took a few steps toward the stairs before Preston spoke.

"You go up and check in on PW," he told Selena. "There are enough people upstairs. I don't think I'm needed right now."

Selena smirked and nodded. She knew Preston wasn't eager to be so close to so many other novas. They messed up his senses and all too often their attitudes messed with his sensibilities. Selena felt she felt ready to slap the crap out of any loud-mouth prima donna that got in her face. It was best not to remind Preston of this though.

Preston went into the living room while Selena went upstairs. She gave a quick nod and a smile to Virgil before edging into the room. Selena looked over to Ptesan-Wi and was about to tell the beleaguered young woman 'the cavalry has arrived' when she thought better of that statement. Instead she switched tact.

"Hey girl. Let me know if you want us to clear the room for a bit. You are in Boston now and if you want police protection its yours."

[Ptesan-Wi]

Ptesan-Wi looked up, and despite her relatively composed face, Selena could see the pain and shock and grief in her eyes.

"Actually, a little bit of time alone would be" - *sorrow/alone/so alone/he's gone/alone* - "nice, I think. Just... just a bit to... adjust...."

[Preston]

"That will be fine," Selena says softly.

In a louder voice, firm, and authoritative voice, she addresses the room.

"We are going to clear the room now. Our friend needs a few minutes to gather herself and we owe her that time. Let's go downstairs and see if we can put together what we know and plan out what options we can provide Ptesan-Wi when she is ready for us."

Selena stands by the door and motions for everyone to leave the room. A hand on her hip shows her badge and her stance highlights the reality that there is now someone in authority on the premises.

[Ptesan-Wi]

Alone in the strange room, Ptesan-Wi finally felt the full brunt of what had occurred. His mind - his beautiful, majestic, wild mind that she had fallen in love with at the very first contact - was with her no longer. Wakinyan was gone, and all she had now were memories.

Small and alone, Ptesan-Wi finally gave in to the sorrow and fell to tears and sobs.

[Lou Anne Burgess]

Lou Anne is the first to leave the room, rather than head directly downstairs she goes into the room across the hall and retrieves her abandoned cup of tea and the rest of the refreshments. Moving everything back downstairs she smiles while greeting Preston. "Glad to see you made it Preston, I assume you've had an interesting afternoon as well?" She turned to look back at the stairs. "We've got quite an assortment of guests here already including one of the Windy City Knights."

Lou Anne seats herself beside Rachel on one of the couches with her tea and tries to make herself comfortable.

[Machina]

Long Island, NY - 1602 local

Myself, I never wanted the kid dead.

WakiToDan. Danny Thunderhawk. Head like a brick. An ego more legendary than his persona. An icon. A sincerity-faking, self-deprecating, would-be god, circus freak. Not a bad guy, I remind myself. All things considered. What the fuck do you expect to happen when you give the power of a god - no, really, a god, with all the mythical, megalomanical trimmings - and cram it into some stupid kid? I think back to myself at that age, remember what I was like, the kind of self-absorbed shit I was. I wish I'd had someone to sit me down and knock some sense into me; it ended up being the Army that did that job. I tried to knock some sense into him. Didn't stick. Knocking sense into something that hard takes a bigger hammer than I was willing to use.

But not a bigger hammer than the Company was willing to use, I guess.

The sensor array went off two minutes ago, woke me up. I thought it had to be a mistake, at first. That alarm hadn't gone off in...well, a while. And before that, never. The fact that it was meant that somewhere, a large quantity of shit had officially hit a very large fan. I nearly leapt off the couch to punch up the coordinates. Knew who the kiss was meant for instantly: as if there'd be anyone else worth the royal treatment in South fucking Dakota. I couldn't tell just yet if it was meant just for Waki, or if he and some other nova were stirring up a sufficient amount of shit to get both of them greased. It didn't matter. The birdman of the Sioux was the primary target, I could tell just from the readings.

I light a smoke, and my hands don't tremble. I'm tempted to monologue some profound, Oppenheimer shit like "I am become Death, destroyer of worlds" and all that, but it ain't warranted. A lot of people don't know this - of the few who can even accurately place the uttering of that phrase - but Oppenheimer looked that up in the 'Gita' and had it lined up to say ahead of time. How fucking grandiose, huh? Me? I got no valediction ready for an event like my peripheral involvement in the death of Danny Thunderhawk. Maybe I should, though: unlike her Cold War predecessors, my avenging angel wasn't meant to be a MAD weapon, some empty threat engineered to get the other guy to back down. I was told to make a weapon that could smear a Titan class threat into a bloody, quantum stain, and the Company doesn't cotton to the grandstanding Show of Force bullshit the rest of the military seems so fond of. That's the one thing you can count on with wetworks and secret ops; we don't fire warning shots.

I breathe in. All I feel is smoke, filling my head and senses. I chew it all over for a second: anybody who looked hard enough could see this was on the horizon. He'd been pushing it for a while. Surprised by the timing, though. Maybe they thought the fact that he'd been a good dog of late would throw someone off the scent. Maybe it just took them this long to get the clearances, run the projections on the inevitable shitstorm to follow. Even the Directive must answer to someone, after all. Still, it ain't often I get caught off guard. I projected this over a year ago - even tried to lend him a hand, save him, in my own way - and when the lightning never came, well, I just figured I was wrong, that he'd be okay until the next major fuckup.

Speaking of shitstorms. Somewhere, his little squaw is about to cry her eyes out. I feel bad for her. Shit, I feel bad for him. Waki was a prick. But I never wanted him dead, I tell myself a second time. Fuck it. I grind out my cigarette and light another. What does it matter now? He's dead and I'm not. And the dead got no complaints.

The days to come will bring the inevitable rain of crocodile tears from those so shocked by the idea that anything could kill the kid, they mistake surprise for grief. Aping a pathetically human trope, they'll frown and bellow and weep and talk about what a great and wonderful creature he was. Repentant monsters are always mourned when they die; it's the ones who make no apologies for what they do, good or bad, that have to roll the dice and see if any fine-looking tail throws themselves over their casket in some salty, boo-hoo-hooing heap. Well, fuck that. Being dead doesn't make him a hero, tragic or otherwise. He was just a stupid kid, not a whole lot unlike a lot of others, no better or worse.

I've always considered myself a pragmatic kind of guy, a man of perspective. I take the long view on events, and try not to get caught up on small shit. I've seen the future, and I know what's on the horizon. I know exactly where I'll be fifty, a hundred years from now, and what the state of the world will be. So one death of one guy I didn't even like all that much, I ain't gonna lie and pretend my world's falling down around my ears. And yet... And yet right now, while I'm reaffirming these things, this is probably the part you expect to find me feeling bad about Danny, missing him, maybe even crying. But you're wrong. I'm not trying to convince me, I'm trying to convince you. Maybe you miss Danny. That's fine. But don't put him on a cross. He did enough of that for two lifetimes on his own.

I come not to honor WakiToDan, but to bury him. Move along, ladies and gentlemen. Nothing to see, here. And there'll be plenty more to come, besides.