Minuteman #4: Chime

New York

The female anchor brushes down her jacket as the camera crew in front of her tries to stand steady in the increasing mayhem. The streets are packed with people trying to get out of central Manhattan. She nods and the cameras roll.

" Today, New York is held once again in the grip of terrorists, but this time they are not super powered, nor are they middle eastern fanatics. Today the enemy is an extremist group of Europeans who have threatened to level New York if their demands are not met. No-one knows who these people are, but their recent pan-frequency transmission has thrown the city into chaos."

Before she can continue her exposition she is bowled over by a rather dazed looking blond man. She falls towards the ground. Before her head hits the sidewalk a strong hand catches her by the arm and pulls her back to her feet. She curses at the man and then looks up at her saviour as she gets to her feet. Rather than smiling she recoils slightly at his scarred face. " I..I.." By the time she gathers herself, he has moved on.

Elsewhere in New York

" Minuteman-13 to all units. Any leads on the Crown Prince yet? We know that this terrorist scare - and remember people, that's all it is - is just a cover to have the kid handed over to the Brits and smuggled out of the country. Our satellites aren't strong enough to detect one man in this chaos and the panic is screwing with our psychic operatives."

" Weston, we know this..." The sarcastic tones of Maxwell cut across the airwaves.

" Shut it, Maxwell. I'm still recovering from that damned poison so the last thing I need is you getting in my face! Now, does anyone, anywhere have any leads?!"

" Nothing on the bridges."

" Nothing on the tunnels"

" Nothing on the ..." The list of negative results continue to feed into Weston. This was ridiculous. Finding a needle in a haystack would be simple in comparison. In the end Weston just blanks out the drone of the reports from the Seconds and tries to think around the problem. Where would they hand off in this chaos? Where would they be going? What would they...

" WHAT THE F***!!!" Weston spins around as a massive explosion rocks a building three streets away - Times Square! Seconds later, another massive explosion rocks another street, and then another! Weston reaches under his jacket and pulls out his firearm and begins to sprint down the crowded street against the fleeing crowd. " Talk to me! Talk to me! What the Hell was that?!"

" Eye in the Sky reports three explosions in a relatively small area. There appears to be some collateral damage but mostly a lot of smoke and people running around. More chaos."

" This is ridiculous! Surely the British wouldn't be so stupid as to bomb freaking New York! What on Earth could they achieve?" Maxwell stops in the middle of the street. A man barrels into him, but Weston stands firm and glowers at him. The blond man opens his mouth and then wanders off.

Weston prepares to run again and then stops. " You really are an idiot Maxwell!"

" Pardon me?!"

" Who told you that the British authorities knew about the kidnapping of Windsor? Who passed on the information?"

" Well, that would be Minuteman-16 in London. He confirmed that the Brits had launched a strike team."

" Patch me through to him."

" What?"

" Patch me through to him. Conference call. Now." Ten long seconds later, a different voice comes over the communicator.

" Jeff, Maxwell, nice to hear from you. Is this important because I'm in the middle of dinner with a rather gorgeous young doctor."

" Sixteen, what is the status of the UK Government re: Project Balin?"

" As per usual. Annoyed but accepting. One less Royal seems to suit some of them, I think. Can I ask why?"

" No you can't. Weston out.... OK Maxwell, when did we all stop thinking? Why would the Brits smuggle through New York? Why would they bomb mainland USA? We know we've got a leak somewhere - my brother died because of it and I nearly got smoked in Amsterdam as well. Your feed from Sixteen was a fake, another damned leak! It isn't the Brits that are causing these explosions, it's someone else!"

Maxwell is silent for a moment. " I'm sorry Jeff."

" I don't want your apologies Maxwell, I want to find out who has started these explosions and who the Hell has Windsor?"

Times Square

Dust swirls around the decimated centre of one of Manhattan's most identifiable landmarks. A few people are still staggering through the debris but it would appear that the explosion has only damaged the facade of some of the billboards and nothing else.

A rumble begins to start under the Square - almost nothing to begin with and then a roaring, rending screaming explosion. A subway tunnel beneath the asphalt bursts open, sending huge chunks of stone high into the air. A young girl is tossed high into the air, screaming. She begins to plummet to the ground only to be caught in mid-air by a glowing green hand.

" You be careful now!" The smiling face of the younger Green Lantern grins down as he places to woman down safely and turns his attention to the destruction of the explosion.

A blond man steps out from the doorway of a building and stares into the sky at his back.

Green Lantern's emerald glow flickers slightly and then it fades away to nothing. His face is a shocked blank as he falls to the ground with a thud. He crawls across the floor, his lip bleeding, staring at the inert ring on his hand. The square is rocked by another series of explosions and this time, the building begin to succumb to the onslaught. Huge chunks of concrete begin to crash down.

Another area of New York

Across Manhattan, the shimmer of a Justice League teleport beam flickers out and the Flash appears. " Yeah, Jonn, I can be with Kyle in a couple of seconds. Any more news on the course of those explosions." He begins to sprint down the street, speed force trailing behind him.

Ahead, two blond haired men, identical to each other step out and he stumbles, falling across the street and crashing into the side of a dumpster. The men walk over to the stunned Flash and give him a swift blow to the back of the head.

" Minuteman-13! Jeff...we have a problem!" The nervous voice of a Second echoes in Weston's ear.

" No shit Sherlock?!" Weston is sprinting towards Times Square. " Talk to me then?"

" We have had two reported metahuman interventions in the last two minutes. Green Lantern appeared in the Square and the Flash was teleported down from the Moon. Both have been neutralised."

" Neutralised? As in 'dead' or as in 'powerless'?"

" Powerless."

Weston stabs a finger into his communicator. " Maxwell, what's the chances that this is Parsifal? It looks like Parsifal, it smells like Parsifal. Is it Parsifal?"

" I .. I think it might be, Jeff."

" Excellent!"

" What?"

" This way, I don't have to mess with any metas....I think it's about time we got some payback!"

A Hidden Laboratory in the Ukraine

"They are coming Yuri!" An elderly man whispers a silent prayer as he taps frantically on an old-fashioned keyboard.

" How could they have known, Alexi? Our backers assured us that the financing trail would never reach us!" On the monitors above them, a dozen black-clad soldiers storm through their complex, killing anyone they find.

" We should never have trusted them, the Canadians. They said that they shared our aims - they said that they were simply wishing to cast off the American oppressors in the same way we were, that they wished for a time when there would be one world and one system. We are old fools, Yuri, we did not recognise them as the enemy as well. One world, their world - not ours."

The door to the chamber bursts open as an explosive erupts in the outside corridor. " At least our children have escaped Yuri! Our children have a chance to .." Alexi's voice is cut-off as his body is riddled with automatic gunfire. Yuri dives to his friends side but he too is caught in a burst of gunfire and he slumps to the ground.

" We are free now......" Another round of gunfire silences him completely.

Tidetech Head Office, Toronto

" Biotech online sir. We have live feed from New York. The clones have been successful in their neutralisation of the metahumans."

" Has there been sufficient collateral damage?"

" Yes sir. We estimate at least $15,000,000 US. We also have reports of at least a half dozen fatalities and just under a hundred serious casualties."

" Acceptable. Are our metahumans ready to intervene?"

" Yes sir."

" Excellent. Proceed."

The bioware screen blinks into life and the Tidetech executive sits back.

Times Square, New York

In New York, two figures stride through the dust. Dressed in combat fatigues, they look for all intents and purposes, like soldiers, except for their colouration. The first has totally pitch black skin and no facial features. He glances around nervously. The second is thick set - indeed, his features are almost like those of an adult afflicted with Down's Syndrome. As the dust falls around him, it appears to burn and fizzle.

The black skinned man stops and his voice enters the mind of everyone in Times Square. " Citizens of New York, do not be alarmed. We have the situation under control. " He steps over the prone body of Green Lantern. " Obviously, the terrorists have employed power suppressants, but thanks to Tidetech, we are immune and able to render assistance." When the word 'tidetech' is transmitted, a dozen subliminal messages flicker momentarily in the brain of everyone receiving the message.

Waves of soothing pain relief flood across the Square, calming the panic. Images of the trapped victims in the building are transmitted into the heads of the emergency services as they arrive. Transmitting, the faceless Tidetech agent sends an additional signal to each of the Parsifal clones to converge on the Square.

The larger Tidetech agent concentrates and extends his fingers. The smoke and the debris sizzle and burn and then the large pieces of building begin to disintegrate. Where his power touches a human, it seems to wrap around them, harmlessly, but the debris is cleared in seconds.

This is the scene that greets Jeff Weston when he storms around the corner. ".... Tidetech would like to offer it's condolences to the people of New York and we assure you that we will do everything we can to apprehend the terrorists, on your behalf."

" Maxwell, this is Weston, I have one - no, two - active metahumans in my line of sight claiming to represent Tidetech," He looks up and double-takes at the gathering of clones moving across the street, " and something approaching a Andy Warhol exhibit is standing across the street. This is about as weird as I get Maxwell. Give me the word?"

" Grandfather agrees. The files our people discovered in Kiev confirm that the clones are the result of Project Parsifal. You have full sanction. Clean the place, Jeff."

Weston raises his firearm and shoots twice. The first bullet kills the black-skinned man instantly, taking the back of his head off. The second would have hit the other metahuman between the eyes, but the bullet disappears as soon as it hit his field. "Damn!"

" I guess you should have packed that lazer attachment, Weston?" Maxwell's quip does not go down well.

" Kiss my ass Maxwell.' Weston glances around and then starts to run at the advancing metahuman. As he runs he continues to fire but his bullets never reach their target. The huge man laughs and prepares to meet Weston, but at the last minute, the Minuteman slides under him and down between his legs. He snaps a kick up into the mans crotch and then rams his gun into his mouth as he doubles over. " Force field destroys matter, yeah? How do you eat? Minimum range I reckon?" He fires three times and takes off his head.

People are screaming again and the police are opening fire on Weston. Maxwell's voice appears in his earpiece. " Extraction?"

" No. I've still got business to attend to." He rolls behind the fallen body of the dead metahuman and opens fire on the clones. Killing has never been a problem for him when the chips are down, but this is almost too easy. Not knowing what was happening, they just stand there, as he mows them down. Like children.

" Extract now?"

" Yes Maxwell, extract now, you son of a bitch! I want an explanation about this..."

The next news bulletin

" Today's terrorist attacks in New York came to a bizarre conclusion when the lone terrorist was captured by Special Forces in Times Square, but not before he had added another eleven deaths to his headcount of shame. Included in those deaths were two metahumans, allegedly acting on behalf of the Canadian pharmaceutical giant Tidetech and nine members of the same Russian family who were sightseeing in New York.....

In related news, a Tidetech facility in Ontario was hit by a stray missile launched during a test flight by the Canadian Air Force today. Reports are still coming in about the severity of the incident but the companies share price has plummeted after the disaster, despite their apparent aid in saving people in New York. I guess you can't second guess the markets..

And now the sport..."

Minuteman Executive Limo, Washington DC

Weston settles back into the welcoming leather seats of the blacked out limo as it glides through the streets of Washington and watches the torrential rain pounding down outside. His body is aching from his labours of the last twenty-four hours. Hell, even his teeth are hurting! He rolls his head a few times trying to ease the tension from his neck. It didn't help.

On the other side of the car, Agent Maxwell finishes the call he is making on his cell phone and slips the sleek black gadget into his pocket.

" Is it safe to talk on that thing in here?" Weston thumbs towards the driver on the other side of the partition.

" This compartment is sound-sealed and the cell phones have special project frequencies. If you kept up-to-date on the tech reports you would know all of this."

" So I've been saving civilisation as we know it - sue me!" Weston fishes inside his jacket and brings out his Minuteman communicator and lays it on the seat next to him. " You'll be wanting this?"

" Why?" Rather than looking surprised, Maxwell has a knowing smile on his face.

" When you recruited me, I made it very clear that this was a one-shot gig. I found out why my brother was killed and sorted it for you. The Black Poet is dead, Tidetech have been neutered and all is well with the world. That's the end of it as far as I'm concerned."

" Yes. The Black Poet and his associates have been removed and we've tracked down the various arms of the project and destroyed them. The Canadians are more cunning than we give hem credit for you know? Create neutralisers in a Ukrainian lab to take out the metahumans that respond to a disaster that you perpetrate. Your metahumans - cloned from the material left over from an old experiment so you have reasonable control about the powers, are immune to the dampening and can save the day, thus catapulting Tidetech to the forefront of everyone's mind. Publicity that you just could not buy. As a sideline, if you drive up US-UK tensions a little, that's all to the good. We retrieved Windsor, by the way. They had him kidnapped and dumped in a diner just outside Chicago. So yes, this is the end of the case, but not the end of you as a Minuteman. As far as Grandfather is concerned, you're a good agent, Weston. Too good an agent to lose again, especially to the incompetents at the DEO. No, you'll be staying with us and continuing your deployment in Europe."

" The Hell I will!"

" You have no choice Weston. No choice at all."

Jeff's eyes narrow as his voice drops to a whisper. " And why is that, exactly?"

" The US Government has no records, at the Judicial level, of Project Parsifal, nor, to be honest, of anything we have been involved with over the last month. As far as the law enforcement authorities are concerned, you just murdered a eleven innocent people on the streets of New York and blew up the best part of Times Square. A serial killing sociopath with strange European sympathies - and let's face it, you have just been to Europe, haven't you?. So it's simple, Weston, you work for us like a good little agent, or we let the Feds lose on you - and you know that they will know where you are, because we'll tell them - and you spend the rest of your life being used as a boy toy at one of the more remote penal institutions we can find."

Weston sits back in his seat as his heart pounds in his chest. Trapped and helpless. He can't work for them because they have him by the balls and the jobs are just going to get worse and worse. Could he run? Could he keep ahead of them long enough? Could he….

" Eleven murders you say?"

" Eleven. Two Canadian metahumans and the nine clones from the Parsifal Project. Quite a rap sheet there, Weston? What are you smiling about?"

" I was just considering whether adding one more would make that much difference in the run of things…" Weston's left hand whips out and the heel slams into the face of Maxwell, driving the bridge of his nose back into his head. Maxwell's eyes flash open in horror as Weston's second straight fingered jab stabs into his windpipe, crushing it. A desperate whistling gasp escapes Maxwell as he collapses in the car, blood dripping slowly from his nose and mouth.

Weston takes a deep breath and picks up his communicator. He presses one of the buttons on the armrest that sits between him and the dead Maxwell and the car pulls to a stop. The internal locks on the door open and he slides out into the pouring rain, disappearing into the night.

Epilogue One

A young woman in a tight, trimmed suit strides purposefully down a long corridor, dimly lit by a few overhead lights. When she reaches the double doors at the end she presses her palm against a glowing panel and breaths slowly into a grid positioned at head height.

DNA and PALM TEST VERIFIED. ENTER

The doors swing open and she enters a shadowed office. At the far end, a man sits at a desk, pondering his next move. Without speaking, she moves to the desk and places the courier package in front of him. "Grandfather?"

He raises his head and his powerful, intelligent eyes scan first her and then the package. She has been here before but he always shocks her. His head is swathed in bandages, always covered in bandages. " Thank you…" His voice flatters slightly, but there is a deep commanding tone nonetheless.

As she leaves, he slips a bone-handled knife into the card package and tips the contents out onto his desk. A gun and a Minuteman communicator fall out, along with a message scrawled on the back of a nightclub flyer

Catch me before I bring you down!
J.W.

He turns the communicator over and over in his hands. " You're too like your grandfather Jeff Weston…Sparrow said he was a troublemaker, but I admired him really. It is going to be a shame to kill you."

Epilogue Two

The rain has been lashing down for three days now, but that suits Jeff just fine. Clandestine agents of a besieged world power hate the rain just as much as anyone else. It also gives him a damned good excuse to keep a hood pulled up to hide his rather distinctive scarred face. He checks out the street with a quick glance and then ducks into a doorway and waits for a second.

His arm whips out and grabs a passer-by. She starts and struggles and then twists, putting Weston into a text-book arm-lock and ramming his face into the wall. " You just made the biggest mistake of …"

" Cam! Cam! Its me, Jeff - Jeff Weston."

" Jeff … but you're.."

" Man hunted - I know. Cameron Chase, we need to talk. We need to take the Minutemen down!"

Sixty Second Sound Off

And so ends the first book of Minuteman. The mysteries unravel as the identity of Grandfather is all-but shown and Jeff Weston starts his quest to take down the Minuteman organisation. I just wanted to extend a big 'thank you' to everyone who has been reading this story and has mailed me to tell me so. It's really made a difference. Look out for more in the future….

Neil