“What?” Creed asked, forcing himself to ignore the sticky blood of his brother coating his thick hands.
“Williams is watching us, right? That’s what you said. We need to take out his ability to see what is happening. The circuit breakers…do you know where they are?” he nodded toward the building where his brother and sister were held.
Creed’s eyes brightened. “Yeah, I do. First floor—behind the elevators—there’s a facilities closet. The breakers have to be there.”
“Get me there,” Evan’s hazel eyes danced with both moonlight and renewed excitement. “We’ll take out his eyes, and then we’ll level the playing field.”
“Let’s go!” Creed whispered
The group moved. With Creed leading the way, Evan was right at his heels and Farrow followed up the rear with her gun drawn. Everyone’s eyes were on the ready looking for any signs of metasoldiers.
They made their way to the front doors of the building without seeing a soul. Once in the main lobby, Creed walked them against walls toward the room he knew to hold the electric breakers for the building.
They walked on silently, hearing the voices of a few soldiers at the nurses’ station further down the corridor, arriving at the wooden door without incident. Creed motioned to it and tried the handle. It barely moved. He scowled at the keypad to the right of the door and grimaced at Evan, nodding toward the locked door.
Understanding their dilemma, Evan reached into one of the many pockets in his black pants, unzipped it and removed a small case. Farrow recognized it as the case he used to fix the comm device she’d just crushed outside moments before. With deft movements, he removed two tiny tools and moved silently toward the control panel.
Farrow and Creed watched in amazement as the thirteen-year-old genius metahuman removed the face of the panel and spliced several wires, the last of which caused a soft humming then a slight pop. A green light showed on the dissected panel that hung by the few connections remaining. With his agile fingers he gripped the handle and turned. The door opened with a soft click.
Evan shot them a small smile over his shoulder before walking unobstructed into the room only lit by buttons emanating from a panel to their right.
Creed and Farrow both nodded in silent awe. They closed the door behind them and watched the boy walk directly toward one of the panels. All Evan needed was a cursory glance to completely acquaint himself with the mechanical inner workings of this building. His skilled fingers traced the unlabeled switches as he calculated his next move.
Evan nodded once to his companions; fingers poised on the switches he’d determined were the necessary breakers before flipping them. The humming that was just part of the room’s personality came to an abrupt stop under his fingers.
“There,” Evan whispered, “the building is completely off-line. All electricity has been cut—lights, cameras—everything.”
“Excellent.” Creed had been quietly searching the room, looking for something with the small flashlight he’d pulled from his pocket. “Now stand back,” Creed nodded toward a thick metal wrench he just scored.
Crash, crash, crash!
With three deafening blows of metal on metal, Creed destroyed the panel.
“And now,” Creed breathed, “no one can fix it without a serious amount of hardware and a whole lot of time.”
“Fantastic,” breathed Farrow as she reached back toward the door. Evan could see her in the faint glow of the emergency lights that remained…filling the small room with red.
“Let’s go,” Creed said decisively, stepping in front of Farrow.
MetaMonarchs, Part 2
“Let me be sure I understand, Kenneth,” the professor was leaning forward now, very much interested in the tale Williams was telling.
“You say you’ve developed a serum that will change an average human child into something extraordinary?”
Both men were working on their second glass of Scotch after ordering the waiter to bring the entire bottle. They didn’t want to be interrupted any further during their discussion.
“Yes, sir,” Williams beamed with pride.
“What is the rate of morbidity in your subjects?”
“Admittedly, it has been high. Essentially, I have found if the subject survives the first week after dosage, he or she is in the clear.”
“What happens to those subjects who don’t end ‘in the clear’?” The professor raised a brow mischievously.
Williams shrugged. “The bodies are studied then disposed of.”
“And how have you managed to create your entire Institute of Neurobiological Studies in California where you’re presumably able to conduct your—work, and remain untouched by authorities?”
Dr. Williams leaned back confidently in his black leather seat, “I am above suspicion. It’s easy to do when you’re far more clever than the authorities.”