My eyes were watering as I stumbled out of Julie's way. She opened fire on Melvin, her bullets tearing into the troll. I swear he giggled as he reached past Milo, grabbing onto a huge shelf of tools, guns, machinery, assorted widgets, and pulled. The heavy shelf teetered for a second before falling over.
"Move!" Julie shouted as all of us dove for cover. The shelf came crashing down, bits and pieces flying in every direction. I rolled out of the way as a chainsaw spiraled past. Milo cried out as something landed on him.
Ankles chained together, Melvin hopped for the open roll-up door and the freedom of the forest. Trolls were amazingly fast. "Ha ha. You got pwned, bitches!" He laughed as he cleared the exit. Milo was trapped underneath the shelf and thrashing about. Julie was cursing and reloading her 1911. Holly had the wind knocked out of her and was gasping for breath. Trip was beating on the inside of the trunk. I drew my STI.45, wiped my watering eyes, and started after the escaping troll.
"Witness my perfection, newbs!" Melvin shouted as he hopped down the pavement. If he reached the fence, we were going to lose him.
Suddenly a figure appeared around the corner of Milo's workshop and intercepted the bouncing troll. With his back toward me, I couldn't tell who it was. A boot smashed into Melvin's knobby knees as a large hand grabbed him by the neck. The troll went down with a screech, "No fair!" as the man wrapped his other hand around Melvin's head.
"Wait!" I shouted, but I was too late. With a brutal twist, the troll's neck snapped, and Melvin flopped twitching to the pavement.
The figure stood, dusted himself off, and nonchalantly turned around. The big man was wearing a black suit, black sunglasses, and black strangler gloves. I gasped.
Agent Franks nodded slightly in return.
The Goon Squad rushed around the corner and joined him. Torres, Archer, and Herzog looked exhausted. They'd apparently had a long night. "Burn it," Franks ordered as he strode forward, gesturing back at the troll.
"How? But you…" I stammered.
Franks stopped in front of me. "Mornin'…sunshine," which was exactly how I had sarcastically greeted him every morning since he'd been here. I think he was enjoying my discomfort.
Julie pulled the shelf off Milo. He was flustered, but okay. Holly had gotten unsteadily to her feet. Trip was still banging on the inside of the trunk and shouting. "Would one of you guys let him out?" I asked.
"Trip's got the keys," Holly responded.
Archer, who struck me as the most efficient of the Feds, entered the workshop and spied an acetylene torch. "Mind if I borrow this?"
"Be my guest," Milo responded. Archer wheeled out the torch, turned on the gas, and ignited it with a striker that was chained to the dolly.
"Who's pwned now, punk?" Holly asked rhetorically as she rubbed her bruised stomach. "Aww, hell, that didn't work out like we imagined."
Milo shrugged. "Capturing him seemed like a good idea at the time."
Trip yelled something unintelligible from inside the trunk.
"Good idea. Hold on," Julie shouted at Archer. "Trolls regenerate. Let's haul him down to the basement and lock him up. We can still interrogate him later." Archer looked disappointed as he twisted the knobs and closed off the torch. It made a popping noise.
Franks glanced around at the destruction. "I can't leave you alone, can I?"
I had always suspected that there was more to Franks than met the eye. He was unbelievably tough. Despite my background as a fighter, he had beaten me soundly and had taken inhuman amounts of damage at Natchy Bottom before going down, but that proved nothing. The fact that he was standing here now, after I had seen some of his bones sticking out twelve hours ago, indicated that he was definitely not human. "What are you?" I asked.
Franks' face was emotionless behind those tinted sunglasses. "Hungry. Let's get lunch."
Franks, showing no indication that he should have been dead, ate about 7,000 calories worth of MHI's food, while his men wandered back to the barracks to get some sleep. Apparently, threatening as many witnesses as there were during a Level 5 Containment was hard work. I was feeling it myself. I had slept for less than one hour in the last thirty, and I had met with the shadow man during part of that, so I was nearing a terminal crash, and was damn loopy at this point.
I moved the ice pack to a different spot on my face. I had a nasty bruise. "So, Franks, seriously, your arm was hanging off in pieces last night. And now you're sitting here, all fat and happy." I've had a werewolf for a boss, twice, and had seen some really bizarre stuff over the last year, so I was flexible, but I was also curious. "What the hell are you, really?"
Franks chewed his fifth microwave jumbo burrito. MHI's stockpile of cafeteria food wasn't exactly gourmet dining. He still hadn't removed his sunglasses or gloves, even though we were indoors. "I'm a representative of the United States Government, here to protect you."
"Yeah, whatever, but you aren’t normal."
He chewed with his mouth open. "Don't be such a racist."
I slammed my fist into the table and left. If he possessed any emotions at all, I knew he was doing this just to tweak me. Franks grabbed his last few burritos and followed.
I needed to get some rest, but Harbinger had wanted to discuss strategy first, and had called another meeting since the arrival of my parents had blown away our original plan. Julie and Earl were already there when I arrived. Milo, Holly, and Trip arrived once they succeeded in picking the lock on the trunk lid. Because the three of them had been on the way to Bessemer for the troll hunt, and nobody had ever notified them about my leaving the compound to go after Mosh until afterward, there was no way that any of them could be the spy. Which was great, because right about now I needed all the friends I could get. I had ditched my uncommunicative bodyguard at the base of the stairs and headed for the conference room. I wanted to make this quick, because I still wanted to talk to my father. I had a lot of questions, but first things first. I had to figure out a way to hit back at these cultists.
"What happened to your face?" Earl asked as we sat down.
"Head-butted by a troll," I grumbled.
Earl laughed at me. "I heard. I see Franks is back."
"I thought you said he was dead," Julie said.
"His arm was almost torn off and that's before he got punted across the freeway, so you tell me." I turned to Earl. "Is he like you?"
"No. I'd smell that," he answered.
"So, what does he smell like?" Maybe Earl's supernatural senses could give us a clue.
"Old Spice." Earl shrugged. I put my face in my hands and groaned. "What? He does."
"He's scary is what he is," Trip said. "Honestly, that man gives me the heebie-jeebies. There's something about him that's just not…" He trailed off, looking for the right word.
"Human?" Holly interjected. "He's nominally on our side, and we're stuck with him, so we might as well just ignore him. But yeah, I agree with you. He gives off a bad vibe. Too bad he broke Melvin's neck before we could make him talk."
"Because that was going so well…" My face really hurt.
"The troll will wake up eventually, though he'll probably be useless." Julie got us back on track. "So you spoke with the leader of the Condition?" I filled them in on the conversation, down to every detail I could remember, ducks and all. Earl frowned when I got to the part about how the Englishman seemed to know him personally.
He stood and walked to the wall, where the sketch artist's rendition of our enemy was tacked. "I honestly don't know this guy."