May 23, 2001
5:19 P.m.
The v8 Interceptor, The lonely Road, Oklahoma
“And there goes another one. Bye officer; hope you don’t bust your balls for letting us go!”
The Ford Falcon continued to tear down the highway at over a hundred miles per hour, the police car sitting and waiting for any sort of prey unmoving as the FBI agent seated next to Max’s cage was forced to watch with mouth agape, surprised at the lack of movement from the police car. That kind of restraint did not exist in him.
“Okay. How do you do it? That’s the fourth cop we’ve seen in the last hour and none of them have dared to so much as move an inch.”
“Our car has a built in long range broadcast radio built into the antenna up front. It is programed to send a message 24-7 to all police radios within a five-mile radius. It’s a recorded message from the President of the United States to ignore the speeding Ford Falcon. In the last five years, only one man has ignored the message.”
“What happened to him?”
Fred gave that wry smile exclusive to butlers as he turned to look in the mirror. “I totaled his car, then proceeded to make sure every police precinct in the entire country heard the legend of the man with the vehicle from Mad Max.”
Dinner time had come, though no one in the front row ate anything that was considered solid. Fred was focused entirely on driving; Trevor drank what was considered a FTM Milkshake, a perfect mixture of Milk, Strawberry Ice-cream, Blood and Salt. As a joke he had offered it to Fabio to try; the agent quickly decided never to take anything edible from a Vampire again after that.
So Agent Fabio ate his ham sandwich while Jack munched away at chips, having finished his warm hot dog long ago. Most of it anyway; Max’s treat for the night was a quarter of the foot long meat in a bun.
“You want to know what’s bugging me. Why the no pork rule? Why did God tell the Jews they couldn’t eat pork?”
“I don’t know.”
The FBI agent turned to the bearded man, continuing to eat away at his snack as if he hadn’t said anything wrong. “What?”
“I have no idea why my future descendent said no pork.”
“Wait… I thought you’re him. The Big One; Jesus’ dad.”
Jack E. Wallace shook his head, scratching his beard shortly after as this wasn’t a conversation even worth bothering to have. “No idea how that idea started… guess with the whole multiverse thing, ideas tend to get out of proportion. Truth is, I’m not Elohim… it was my birth middle name, which means that the true God with the big G has to be related to me in some way… but I’m not the guy you pray to every day.”
“Which makes our jobs about a thousand times harder. Could you imagine what you could do with an omniscient being? I’d play the stock market like a damn fiddle.” The blond up front joked, busy with a military laptop capable of satellite internet. It wasn’t fast, but it’s not like they’d arrive anytime soon; they just cross the half way point a few minutes ago. “Speaking of fiddles, how did Padma take the whole ‘I’m a god’ thing?”
“She laughed a lot… then she cried… then she nearly passed out… then she told me to take her home so she could think. She didn’t say a word on the drive back.”
“That bad, huh?” Trevor asked, to which his boss shook his head.
“I’ve had worst… I had to tell Sumas’ mother about four years after her birth why her child was a natural genius with a healing factor… they proceeded to burn crosses and use pages of the bible as toilet paper. They’re might be a reason why they didn’t live to see their daughter grow up.”
“Speaking of which, I gotta know. Which church is right? Which one do I go to?” The FBI agent asked now, his turn to probe. He wasn’t getting off that easy.
“Can’t tell you.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“I physically cannot tell you… if I tried, God would simply make me mute. No man who knows the truth can share it with those who were not meant to hear it… as important as I am to the plan, I can’t ruin it.”
“But it’s your plan! You’re the one who made it up… in fact, this doesn’t even make sense. If you’re meant to become god, who will eventually lead to the birth of the real God, the one who makes the world, then how are we all here?” Fabio questioned, to which there was only one answer. Simultaneously, the two men up front turned around and stared the man down, giving the cop out that is the only reason why Doctor Who makes any sense.
“Time travel.”
“Time travel?”
“Time travel.” Jack closed.
May 23, 2001
10:32 P.m.
Border Sign, The lonely Road, Arizona
“Alright! Mandatory ten minute rest break! Everyone out of the friggen car!”
The clan obeyed their blond master, the only one who could dictate when they could leave or go. Even as hurried as he was, it seemed that Trevor couldn’t keep his own word; he was getting stir crazy, his missing limbs practically begging him to be stretched as the man immediately opened the door and left his seat, limping away as he quickly walked about aimlessly to make the echoing pain stop.
Fine by the rest of the group; with collective groans and complaints, most of which came from the anxious dog, the other four left the car and began to walk about, parked right in front of the sign that announced their welcome into the state of Arizona. After that, they’d be in California; an hour or so more, and they’d finally get to the hotel that beckoned them in the far off distance.
“Holy shit I hate driving… sorry Jack.”
“No offense taken.” The mercenary moaned, cracking his back and just barely dodging his dark haired mutt. Seems the hunter had taken notice of a rabbit; now that he was on his trail, there was little to do but hope the smaller mammal could escape his larger counterpart. Off into the distance the dog ran, all eyes following it even as the anxious Argentinian began to walk towards the elder Boss.
“So, any reason why you’re not a mutant? You don’t have that feel FTMs and EEMs usually have.”
“No, I’m mostly normal… I stopped aging, but only from a secret Chinese art taught to me in the heart of the hidden palace.”
“… That a joke?”
“Master Fabio, Jack doesn’t know how to joke. The best he can do is come up with really bad puns.” Fred complained, stretching his long legs and arms against the back of the interceptor. No worry about getting hit; this part of the country was all but asleep, no cars daring to make this trek so late at night. Not when they could start in the morning.
A perfect time for an exercise. Flexing his hands, Fred took note of a boulder about ten feet tall and a few feet thick in the distance as he looked it up and down, clicking his tongue as he made the measurements. Then, turning his purple eyes to Fabio, he asked “You’ve met my son John Moore, correct?”
“He’s your son?”
“Yeah, one of them… anyway, have you ever heard why his codename is Hades?”
“Something about using microfilament wires, right?”
“Right. Because he can do something like this.”
Fred threw his hands and his long pony tail forward, an odd twist of his body that seemed almost like a marionette in action accompanied by a soft click that echoed about the sandy plains. Nothing seemed to happen, though all present knew that the man had targeted that tall boulder pestering him. True, it looked slightly misshapen now-
The rock broke apart in four symmetrical pieces, a perfect x as the top piece and side partners rolled away from the pull of gravity. Save for the glint of a moving wire across the ground in the moonlight, it would have been impossible to tell how Fred had done it; even though he could see the weapon, Fabio still wouldn’t have understood it had he not heard the legends of the man who helped managed the FBI, the legendary Greek giant who could split men in half with a flick of a wrist.
Then again, not everyone was impressed. “Show off.?
?? Trevor shouted, walking back towards the car with scrunched eyebrows, intimidated slightly from the display of power. “You’re usually the one who tells me off for using my powers.”
“Wait, you mean you’re a high level FTM too? What can you do?”
“Nothing you need to know about, Fabio.”
The FBI agent sighed, pushing his hand through his hair as he looked at the strange menagerie of outcasts. “An old one eyed war vet, his elder butler, and their Blond crippled XO officer. All of you can kill me in an instant, and I’m supposed to be the hot shot FBI agent. You guys understand why we normal people don’t like you all that much, right?”
Jack frowned. “I hate to say it, Fabio… but we’ve never been that well liked even as normal people.”