The Infected 1: Proxy (26 page)

She still didn't talk, just sat and trembled instead. Since she didn't have any reason to be afraid, it had to be rage. She was literally shaking with rage, just because Brian... what? Tried to talk to her? What the hell was wrong with the women at this place? He wasn't even good enough to talk to them now?

He looked at her, trying to smile again, then after about ten seconds looked at her team leader, who looked perplexed as well, so at least there was that. He raised his hands a little.

"Is everything all right?" Rob spoke softly, concerned.

She shook her head but wouldn't speak.

Brian felt his brow wrinkle hard, knowing he'd seem angry, but kind of feeling that way. More than that, if he was honest about it. He'd gone out of his way to try and fix things between them and she wouldn't even deign to talk to him? What the fuck?

A near rage tried to run through him, but he fought it, remembering his mission there. It didn't really work the second he opened his mouth.

"Hey, OK, so you think you're so much better than me, fine, no problem, I'll even agree to it in writing if you want, but still, I seem to remember someone being pinned to a wall last night with an angry super-powered man coming at them and getting him to attack me instead, to protect you, even after you've gotten in my way over and over again now. Which has gotten me hurt more than once. Actual, real damage and pain, because you keep fucking up. So... whatever. I don't have time to waste on people that won't even try to work things out. Just don't attack me again, all right? Even if you don't get what I'm doing. I swear, I have a reason for it."

She looked down but didn't say anything to him. She didn't even look at him.

"Crap, well, waste of time here. Still, I tried. Later I guess." He got up and left the office. Brian knew he'd sounded angry, sullen and tense at the end there, but couldn't help it. What the hell was up with the women around here anyway? He hadn't even flirted with anyone, well, except Beatdown and that was a joke when it seemed death was imminent.

Sure he looked like crap, but part of that had come about directly because of Lady Glory and her "mistakes". If anyone in the world should cut him a little slack there, it should be her, right? He hadn't even been trying to date her or anything.

Brian couldn't storm away, but wanted to. He walked instead, slowly, his muscles locking up in rage. Making his way to his room he got in bed and just laid still for a while, remembering how much happier things had been when he'd left. Maybe it would be better to be alone? Getting up, Brian went back to the gym and started working on kicks, just standing and kicking air until sweat rolled and every muscle involved burned. Then each punch got a turn, hundreds of times each, a puddle forming at his feet, making it seem like an ice sculpture melted there. No one bothered him or even looked at him too closely. Finally he got a towel from the stack along the wall, a more utilitarian brown terry cloth than what they had in the showers and bathrooms, and wiped the floor clean, then mopped himself up. Not as good as a real practice, but better than nothing.

He could only do so much right now.

Heading back to his room, he showered and dressed in a pair of black fatigues, contemplating leaving again. It really had been better in a lot of ways, so much so that he kind of wondered why he hadn't done it already. It felt like almost everyone here either hated him or at best just barely tolerated his presence. Sure the medical coverage was good, excellent really, but other than that and free food, what did he really get out of the whole deal?

The worst part of this was that deep inside, Brian knew that he'd been taking things too personally and let his feelings be hurt by stuff that shouldn't even matter. Who were these people to him anyway? Really, they weren't friends... colleagues? Even that stretched things. He didn't work with them, they were just there with him. A few helped him, the medical people, Marcia and Jason. Karen to an extent even. The rest?

Well, Mark had saved him. He felt grateful for that and wouldn't forget it like most people seemed to when you helped them out of a jam. The others didn't mean anything to him. He liked them, but he didn't need them. Obviously they didn't need him either.

Good enough.

He'd just keep to himself then and lay low. Use the resources here and avoid the people when he could. That might work. Brian had avoided being close to very many people the whole rest of his life, why not the last bit too? He laid on his bed again, trying to rest and not think of anything, until a knock came at about three.

"Brian? It's Christian, could I have a word with you please?"

He contemplated just ignoring her, but got up and opened the door, trying to use restraint so it didn't look angry. It wasn't that she wouldn't know, but she still deserved the effort, right? Everyone did.

Brian smiled and walked slowly into the hall. Not having a clue why she wanted him, probably to yell at him for not licking Lady Glory's feet properly or something stupid like that. She took a deep breath and stepped back like he smelled bad. Having just gotten out of the shower that didn't seem likely. Just another insult from the women here, he mused, and tried to let it go. It didn't show on his face, but he knew that anger had to be washing off of him over the whole thing. Her face went blank, but he could see flickers of revulsion in it.

"Director Moore wanted me to ask if you'd consider sitting in on a meeting. It's not really a press conference, but some of them, the press, will be there. It's about the whole thing last night... You were involved and ultimately in a positive manner, I think the director wants you there to remind certain parties of that part of things."

Brian shrugged, feeling apathetic about it, and got directions to the meeting room. Up on two, go right not left like last time. Why not? He didn't have anything else to do anyway. Making his way up, slowly and in more pain now than before, he felt like a weight rested on his shoulders, a burden that he couldn't get rid of. Not the lives of those he might save, or even the people that died if he didn't. All of that came out in the wash really. Saved or not, everyone eventually died, he just changed the frame a little, giving a few the gift of extra time.

No, the burden turned out to be people, the ones here that were supposed to be his friends, but couldn't be, not really.

He walked into the room at three-thirty. It didn't look like everyone had arrived, so he found his seat - marked with a printed tag - at the round white table that could hold twenty. He counted to see. It was an old habit that he'd mainly broken, instantly counting everything like that. Something from a different life. Another Brian all together.

No cameras were set up, no microphones. The room was a nice golden yellow on the walls and ceiling, the floor more beige, tight weave carpet. Nice padded chairs at least. That was helpful, because everything hurt. A lot. Charlot Chambers walked over and put a hand on his arm gently just after he settled.

"Thank you. This is a mess and so far you're the only one that's really tried to help us. Everyone else wants something, good press, money, sex... You went into that room alone, trusting him to not attack when no one else would, and you took him out of there, not letting them treat him like a criminal." She teared up but let him see it and didn't wipe her eyes. He put a hand out and touched her arm gently.

"Not a problem. I'm here for you. All of you." Then he nodded. It was true enough, for now.

Just before four, Bridget walked in as if invited, dressed up in an outfit that looked very business professional, with her short hair and slightly nerdy looks, she even filled the role better than her mother did. The slight girl grabbed a chair from the wall, looked around, and carried it over, sliding in beside him. She slapped down a crudely scrawled, folded piece of paper that didn't match the plastic lettered name plates at all. He reached over and took it from her, took the pen in front of him, and in much nicer print rewrote her name and put it back in front of her. She looked at it then turned and stared at him. He couldn't read her expression and didn't bother trying.

Brian leaned over to her instead.

"If you want to stay, you'll have to master your impulses. Don't speak, no matter what, unless I tell you to. If you can't do that, then go now. I don't know what's going to happen, but most likely it won't be fun, so ready yourself. Got it?" His voice sounded dead; like everything important had failed him and now he lived on borrowed time. The idea didn't even make him want to laugh.

Damn, now he was losing his sense of humor too? That sucked, it was the one good thing he had left. There wasn't even enough left inside to feel sad over it.

Crud.

The meeting got underway, late, but only about ten minutes. Three different people tried to suggest Bridget leave, causing Brian to stare at them and shake his head no. Each time they went quiet and looked away. For her part, the girl managed well, not dancing on the table or trying to grab his crotch when he looked away. She even kept her mouth firmly closed, a hard thing to do when some of the people started speaking, since a lot of them called her dad a monster.

Brian didn't say anything either, pretending to simply take notes and consider things, letting everyone else talk themselves in circles. The reporter recounted her tale of horror, first confronting an angry super-being and then suddenly being surrounded by Infected freaks, naked. Brian felt a little cheated, having missed that part, being the one that took her place for the beating portion of the events and all. She looked cute. Of course she'd probably been crying and scared, which would have taken the fun out of it.

After a while everyone started repeating themselves, both sides getting angrier each round, as if arguing would make a difference. Brian waited for a lull between the sixth and seventh repetition before speaking himself.

"So you," he pointed at the reporter having missed her name somehow, "are complaining because when you assaulted Mr. Chambers, which you've openly admitted to already, you found yourself removed from his presence and ended up in a room full of super-powered bodyguards - where I put you, not him, by the way, if you really want to make an issue of that part - people who were ready to fight to the death to protect you if it became needed? Do I have that right? And the rest of you are blaming Scott for being angry? Agreed, it means a lot more when he does it than if most of us fly off the handle. But seriously, if you slap a narcissist with super-powers, you kind of have to be willing to take responsibility for what happens." He stood, pushing his chair back.

"I'm not saying that Mr. Chambers doesn't have a responsibility for his own actions, even if his Infection makes it difficult, if anything he has more responsibility because of that. That it's harder for him to stop something like this requires him to fight harder against it. Still, in this country we don't punish people for being Infected or what they could do, but only what they did do. What did he do? He got scary? Well, sorry, not a crime. Not here at least. I think we need to ask these people to consider that trying to make this into an issue to drum up ratings only hurts others. I take it most of you," waving his hand he indicated the press - all six of them sitting side by side with their lawyers - "aren't Infected? If so, you should know the difference between making up a story that harms people for your own greed and reporting the news, no excuse due to amoral first modes even. More to the point, you should know that if you spread lies this time, later, when you need us - and you will need us eventually, the world right now dictates it - you may find that a lot of the good Infected people have given up on you and won't help."

Sitting carefully, Bridget looked at him and raised her hand slowly.

"I believe Miss Chambers here has something to add?" Brian nodded at her, and hoped it wasn't a mistake, waiting for the uncontrolled burst of foul language or a physical attack on those that had spoken against her family. Not that he'd blame her, but it wouldn't help much.

"I'm Bridget. Most of you don't know who I am, but I've lived here all my life. I know every inch of this compound, perhaps better than the people that designed it. I know things about this place that most people don't, even the Director." She gave a bow in his direction with a slow smile. "I know for instance, where the sub-basement secondary recording database is and how to make backup copies of information, and that every room here - the bathrooms, the showers, hallways, everything without exception - is monitored twenty-four hours a day. Normally this is considered private information and no one looks at it unless something happens."

She turned to look at the female reporter directly, her gaze not leaving the woman for an instant, making the woman shift uncomfortably. "Something happened. Last night, this morning really, at four thirty-seven, I loaded the images of the events we've been talking about onto a half dozen remote servers around the world - several outside of U.S. control. If you, if any of you, attempt to run this story in any way other than exactly as it happened, I'll be forced to release the raw footage on the Internet. You, ma'am," she pointed at the blond reporter that Brian suddenly realized he'd seen on TV before, talking about him of all things, "do not want that to happen. Having an affair is one thing, claiming that you were attacked by a "brutal Infected" won't play long when people see and hear what you were saying directly from your own lips... Plus that other footage which, by the way, is now seared into my brain forever... I'm so going to need therapy..." She shuddered a little then.

She leaned back and stopped talking, turned to Brian and nodded conspiratorially. Like he had something to do with it. He smiled and looked at the reporters.

"Or that... Still, I'm hoping the highest common denominator can take the day."

The Director stood and stared at the tiny girl, frowning.

"We - you and I - will be having a talk about this, young lady. That material is not supposed to be used in this kind of fashion." He turned to the press people, looking at the blond woman directly. "Unfortunately, love for a parent can cause a youngster to do many things they might not otherwise. I think I can... persuade Miss Chambers not to release the footage if you agree to keep this quiet? I don't know that anything else will really do it, she's a little impulsive at times. We can dig out all the footage - eventually - but her talents in such areas are legend. It may take us longer, to do by force, than we have without her cooperation. So, deal or no? Not to make too fine a point of it, but time may actually be an issue here."

Huddling for several minutes, the lawyers threatened to sue if the footage was released, which got a cheerful sounding laugh from Bridget. "Sue away, I don't have any money. And good luck finding me, if I release that footage I'll have to run from the government, probably leave the country. Even if I don't release it, I may already be screwed, it's a secure federal database I cracked. I'm willing to do it... I've already committed to the course of action." She leaned in over the table, palms flat on the top, standing to do it.

"Are you willing to live with it if I let this go public? That's the real question. The only one here that matters. It's in your hands now." She addressed this to the blond reporter, who finally looked down and shook her head no. The lawyers blustered for a while, but finally gave up, on the condition that the footage be recovered and destroyed.