An Odd Sort of Introduction
03 February 2067 13.37
Conner, Montana
FirePower's attache, Ensign Mark Tanner drove the Humvee Mk IX confidently through the snowstorm. They had arrived in Conner in the morning, she had instructed him to try to rest as much as possible during the day. She knew that Karl was a night person, and to meet him, she'd have to be working on his schedule. For now.
Elaine packed light, her stealth uniform, some civilian clothing, her Federal Identification, and her formal dress uniform. She had legal paperwork from the Department of Corrections, paperwork for Enlistment in the Military Mutant Corps, and a bottle of red medications. These would immediately neutralize the anti-inhibitors in his system. Only if he signed would she give them to him.
She scanned through the plastic display sheet with the standard contract. Five years, out as an officer in four, with a year flying solo before allowed for full expurgation of his criminal record. Not merely sealed, but erased. He would have no record, no history of his past actions.
It was a good deal. Not as good as the old deals used to be, but a good deal.
After she made sure her Adjunct had gotten settled she wandered the streets of Conner for an hour or so in her civilian clothing. She remembered the words of Crone at a Thanksgiving long ago. 'Without the little people, we are nothing.' Crone had said. It seemed like something silly, but she remembered how Crone had the command of everyone in that room, on that day, in that point in time.
Later, during a recorded lecture that Crone had given when she was a Professor of Philosophy at the University of Washington, back, a hundred years ago, she remembered something else. 'When we stop being kind, then we deserve no kindness to ourselves. It is important that we understand that no matter our position in life, no matter how powerful we become that kindness is paramount to existence. Only until we are trespassed do we then have to consider doing harm.'
She always wondered about that.
Still, she was on someone else's turf, and before she went hunting for her first apprentice had some legal issues to do.
As she walked down the street in the afternoon, it was quiet. She saw a Police Officer's car and flagged it down.
"Good afternoon, officer, I was wondering if you could tell me where the local Police Station is?" She asked.
The officer looked at her and pointed toward a side street. His name badge read, 'Potter' and he spoke in a quiet way:
"Except you won't find nobody there. Chief's gone for a while and there's only me and Lester on duty. Is there something I can help you with, ma'am?"
"I'm looking for a man. His name is Karl Lamphere. I was told that he works in the bar down the street." She replied.
"Our resident mutie," he snickered. "He takes his drugs, is a drunk, and works under the table. He has to check in with the clinic once a week for his meds, and hasn't missed a day. I know, I've been wanting to bust his chops for a while now. What do you want him for?"
She looked at him for a half moment. Her rank in the MMU would be similar to an FBI supervisor officer walking into a town and demanding control of the situation.
"I represent a Government Agency that's taken a liking toward him. Perhaps we might be able to make your local issue go away."
He looked at her, in her form fitting pants, long crimson hair and lack of a jacket. He wondered how in two feet of snow she could be warm in an outfit like that. Potter was not an imaginative man, except for when it came to women, and even then by most standards his taste was benign. Still the redhead intrigued him, and so he just asked, "and what might that Agency be, ma'am? If you want my help, you'll have to show me some identification."
She turned to the side, now in profile, and dipped two fingers with their perfectly shaped nails into a zippered back pocket on her curvacious ass. The tag of the zipper jiggled as she opened it, and pulled out her Military Identification.
She then used her command tone, and flashed the gold shield in front of her, watching his eyes grow wide as he saw it.
"Lieutenant Taylor, MMC. As I said, we've taken a liking toward him. If you play your cards right, I might be able to get rid of him."
He looked at her. She didn't look like any Mutie he'd ever seen before, but the ID was valid. "Hey, I don't mind anyone doing my job for me." He had enough sense to withhold his tongue, thinking that the job he'd like to do with her involved her on her knees.
"So no trouble with him, nothing of that nature? No display in the use of his powers?" She asked.
"Just being a drunk. Then again, I guess if I were a Mutie I'd be a drunk, too." He said. It was in this moment that he realized he might have blown his chance with her.
She looked at him impassively. While she knew a great deal of the information, she did not know the bigotry he might face. She'd never lived on the outside, having been in the same Military Facility since the age of six.
"So um," he continued, "what's it like with the MMU? I thought only Muties could get in there."
She looked at him coolly. "That is correct."
He opened his mouth to speak.
She looked at him and for the briefest of moments her eyes flickered blood red, and steam rose slightly from her head.
"Fuh..." He started.
She smirked at him and then reiterated, "I'll see what I can do about your... Mutie... problem."
He bobbed his head up and down, "um, thank you Lieutenant."
She turned and walked off, sliding her identification back into her back pocket, zipping it up. As she walked, the Montana snow around her feet almost instantly melted and small trellises of steam were still to be seen.