The story which follows has many authors of which I am but one. The other authors are from the gaming group I participate in. They are Barry Biddlecomb, Mike Christodoulou, Dirk Loedding, and Adam Stein. To the best of my knowledge, we've never collaborated on a work such as this...until now.
Hostage Crisis - Knights vs. the Manikin
On Saturday, June 29, 2002, three of the Southern Knights - Omo Eshu, Lavender, and Stutter - found themselves facing a mysterious threat known only as "Manikin", who had taken several clothing models hostage. Tracking the villain down to a Buckhead hideout, they engaged the enemy. Unfortunately, in the struggle, several of the hostages were killed.
The words reverberated through her mind, "They're dead. They're dead. They're dead. They're dead." The room seemed to spin. A black hole opened up in her soul and sucked out all the goodness, all the light. All that was left was darkness and pain.
"No..." Lavender muttered as she put her hands to her face. Reality came crashing in and she finally realized the truth. Being a super hero is no game. People truly do get hurt. Sometimes they die.
The road not taken. "If I'd have just gone into the room and flew them out one by one, I'd have saved them! But, no! I had to blast the crud out of clothes and mannequins because it was fun!" she screamed to herself in her mind. "If only...if only...if only...." she thought. All this power at her command and she couldn't' save them. "If only...if only...if only...."
"No!!!", she screamed. They were looking at her, Stutter, Omo, the mannequin faces. Looking at her as if... "No!!!", she screamed again.
A gentle hand on her shoulder. A soothing voice, gentle. But the pain was unbearable. "Why?!" she shouted as she lashed out. Through tear filled eyes she saw Omo fly back. He was bleeding. He was broken. He was motionless. "Oh, no. Oh, no!" she shouted as she took flight.
Crashing through the skylight she flew aimlessly, desperately trying to outrace the acidic pit that had become her innards. She retched then vomited. Careening through the sky, she fell and hit the ground. Then all was silent for a while.
The doorknob jiggled as keys rattled clumsily on the other side. Sondra waited impatiently inside the apartment. She had rehearsed all the things she wanted to say. Leaving her at the mall like that! She waited for him there for over two hours. Sure, she understood that all this superhero business was a little chaotic sometimes, but he couldn't call?!
Samade looked ragged and worn out as he stepped through the door. She thought he almost looked drunk. He could barely hear her ranting. "blah blah blah mall blah blah waiting blah blah blah do this to me blah blah disrespect me blah blah blah ..." He staggered over to the couch and dropped into it. She was still yelling. Oddly, the thing he wanted most was a bath.
He became aware that the yelling had stopped. "Sam? ... Sam?" She was in front of him now, staring into his eyes, which were fixated on something far in the distance. She reached out to hold his hand. He withdrew it quickly, inhaling sharply with the shooting pain. He looked directly into her eyes. He was shaking.
"They're dead," he whispered. "I could not save them."
And then he collapsed into her arms.
Lavender awoke. Her right side hurt but nothing was broken. It was night. A funny smell filled the air and a shadow crossed her field of vision.
"Hey, girly girl. Whatchu doin' 'round here like dat?" said the raggedly dressed and foul-smelling drunken man. "Girly girl! I say wake up! You deaf or sumthin'?" Opening her eyes, she sat up. She felt cold.
"Whooee! You a pretty young thang! You don' need to be here. Why don' you and I, uh, heheh, gonna get to know each other better, whatchu say girly girl? Damn you shore is pretty!"
She stood up. "No." She smiled a sad little smile. "You're not my type." And, with that she took flight leaving the startled drunk stupidly gazing up into the sky.
"I don't know what to do. Momma, it hurts." But, her mother wouldn't understand. Nor would her dad or brother and sister. Who would understand? Cliff? No. He was only slightly less innocent than she was. Doc? No. She didn't know him that well. Omo? Maybe, but she lashed out at him, maybe killing him. She shook her head and the tears flowed anew. Who else could have possibly gone through this kind of thing and survived? Mentally she named off the other Knights until she came to two names. "Green Dragon. Yes!" But, she didn't know how to find him. "Chief." Yes, Chief. He was a fossil but he's seen it all. Tough but kind. Surely he's been through this kind of thing. She could talk to him.
Making her way to the Citadel, she landed and walked in. The receptionist robot greeted her warmly, "Hello Lavender. How are you today?"
At those words, her shoulders slumped and she stumbled. Haltingly she said, "I, I'm...um....do you know where Chief is?"
"Checking. One moment. He has just finished a session in the danger room with Cliff. Do you want me to buzz him?"
"No. I'll go see him myself."
Making her way to the danger room, she saw him working on his weapons and armor, making sure they were in tip-top shape. Cliff was nowhere around.
"Chief," she said as she stood in the doorway and started to cry. "I don't know what to do." Sobs racked her as she slowly sunk to the floor. In a timid, tear filled voice she said, "Help me, please?"
Zack looked up from his armor, took in the tear-stained face, the limp posture, and immediately knew something was terribly wrong. He'd never seen her like this. He immediately got to his feet, and crossed the room. Sitting down cross-legged across from her, he asked, in a gentle voice, "What's up, kiddo?"
"Oh, Chief," she tearfully said, "they're dead and I couldn't save them. I don't know what to do. It hurts!"
Zack tightened his jaw. Aside from that, outwardly he continued to radiate concern and calmness but on the inside his thoughts started to race. He needed to get to the bottom of this and get to the bottom of it now. In a commanding yet concerned voice he asked, "Lavender, I'm glad you came to me. I need to know what happened. Take your time and start from the beginning."
"O... ok. I ... I was at a fashion show with my friends when the clothing just came to life. It started grabbing the models and dragging them away. I called for help and Omo showed up. We got most of the people out but the clothing took away the models."
Zack thought, "The clothing grabbed the models and took them away?" Mentally he shook his head to clear it and asked, "Is this related to the mannequin lady on TV earlier today?"
"Yes," said Lavender. The telling of the events seemed to be calming her. "Omo saw a van racing away from Phipps but we were still fighting the clothes so we couldn't follow it. We tried. We went looking for it but we couldn't find it."
"What happened then?"
"The mannequin lady said she was going to do the same thing to the city in 30 minutes and she did. I had to fight my own clothing. When she broadcast again, we were ready. We traced her signal to an abandoned warehouse."
"Where is the warehouse?"
"A few miles from Phipps, I think. I'm sorry I don't remember", she said as tears started flowing again.
"That's ok, kiddo. We'll find it. Easy, take your time. I know this is hard but keep going. Once I know what happened, I'll know what I can do. Chin up, ok?"
Lavender nodded, wiped her eyes and took a breath. "Stutter showed up and we looked into the warehouse. There were several mannequins and clothing everywhere. I flew Omo to the roof and he went inside to a catwalk. We all went in at once and the clothing and mannequins attacked us. I could see the models wrapped up in clothing in a glassed in area." The tears started anew. "I could see them. I should have gone in and flown them out one-by-one but I didn't. I blasted the mannequins and clothing instead. While I was having fun blasting these things the models were dying. I could have saved them. But all I could do was get one out. She was wrapped up so tight...so tight. Oh, Chief..."
Chief started to say something but stopped when Lavender spoke again. "After the last mannequin fell, four of the models were dead. And, Omo...Omo..." she choked out, "Omo came up to me and tried to comfort me for my failure. But I lashed out at him. I didn't mean to hurt him but I did and I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. It was all my fault. And, I don't know what to do."
"This was not good," Zack thought to himself. He knew Lavender's blasts could be very damaging, especially when fired at an unsuspecting target. Unconsciously, he rubbed at a spot on his arm where one of her blasts had caught him during a training session, penetrating his armor. "I'm sure you didn't hurt him too badly," he said, hopefully. "He's tough. Tougher than you might think." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You might well have knocked him out, though, allowing him to be captured. If he's been captured, we need to put together a team and go get him back. And then we have to finish off this mannequin lady." He put his helmet on, and tried to reach Omo over the comm system.
Damn! No response.
As he disconnected the call attempt, Chief looked at Lavender. "He's not answering. Let's see whom else we can round up, and try to go find him. He might have been captured."
"Lean on me," Sondra said. "I've got to get you to the hospital."
"I can walk," said Samade, somewhat annoyed. "I am still a man."
"Say it to the hand, Mr. Testosterone," she scolded, "and for once, just let me take care of my man!"
Samade wearily gave in. She grabbed him with one arm, and her car keys with the other, and the two hobbled their way out of the apartment.
As the door clicked closed behind them, a soft noise sounded from the coffee table. Somewhere amidst a heap of high-tech, blue and white costume, came the quiet "beep-beep-beep ... beep-beep-beep ...".
Stutter mentally reviewed the multiple trauma from earlier today with a detached mind as the elevator took forever to reach the third floor. Once again he cursed the difference in the relative speed between his patients and himself. The hardest thing he had to teach himself was to relax and slow down when doing a diagnosis. When the adrenaline is pumping and blood is flying it is hard to wait the eternity it takes to get an accurate pulse.
He was able to save two of the three that still had some life in them when he finally reached them. Even they would have a hard time. The wounds on all six of them were pretty much the same. The clothes constricted upon the individuals, first cutting off the ability to breath, then popping the ribs and other bones causing massive internal injuries. Once the ribs started to break it was just the luck of the draw as to whether anything vital got punctured.
Stutter had never performed multiple surgeries at the same time. It would have been hard in the best of circumstances but on the floor of an abandoned warehouse, infection will be a future threat that will need to be watched for. It wasn't the cleanest of work and there were going to be some scares but even he only do so much. In the end, he had to give up on the third to save the other two.
After the review, Stutter was satisfied with his performance during the crises. The elevator opened and he went about his rounds.
"There you are," said Peter Hollis with a heavy tinge of irritation in his voice. "Sensei Otomaru expected us in the Danger Room twenty minutes ago. Don't think a few cuts and scrapes is going to excuse you from our lesson. It is highly disrespectful of you to ... keep ... him ... Omo??"
Omo Eshu sat in the archway of the Knights Tower, motionlessly staring out over the King Memorial Cemetery. Hollis hovered in the air in front of him, futilely trying to break his reverie.
Eshu merely stared, scarcely noticing Hollis' presence. Finally, he spoke, barely above a whisper. "They're dead," he intoned. "It's my fault."
Hollis barely caught his pipe as it dropped from between his teeth. "What?"
"I was in charge. I called the shots." He paused. Hollis saw a tear roll from the corner of one eye, quickly absorbing into the dark mask. "And now, because of me, four people are dead."
Hollis slowly floated over to the ledge where Eshu was perched, and sat down beside him. "Perhaps you'd better start from the beginning."
Eshu leaned his head against the side of the arch. "The beginning ...," he began. He paused to take a deep breath, perhaps trying to remember exactly where the beginning actually was.
"I was at Phipps Plaza, watching a fashion show," said Eshu, his West African accent perhaps a little stronger than usual, Peter thought. "Nieman and Sachs had just come out with their new winter line. Apparently, lame', was the latest theme.
"Then things got strange. The models - they started to fall - struggling with their own clothing. Then the audience. Clothing actually came to life - jumped off the racks and attacked the people. It was like the 'Sorcerer's Apprentice'. Everywhere people were screaming."
Hollis' brow furrowed, and he chomped pensively on his pipe. Animated clothing? It was farfetched, of course. Perhaps Eshu's memory was faulty as a result of some trauma. But then, they had all seen some pretty bizarre things since Y2K.
"I changed into my uniform and then learned that Lavender was also there. Between the two of us, we fought off the clothing and kept the people safe. Most of them.
"I saw the van. It was speeding away in the mall parking lot. At the time ... perhaps ... I could not tell. It was suspicious, but the people inside were still in danger. It was not till later that we realized some of the people had been taken prisoner ... probably in the van. We tried to find it, but we waited too long. It was gone.
"Then came the announcement. A manikin's face broadcast on the big screen inside the mall. A woman's voice said that there would be a bigger demonstration in thirty minutes. Lavender and I were able to track the next broadcast to a nearby warehouse.
"The warehouse ..." Eshu's voice trailed off and he bowed his head slightly. Peter laid a hand on his shoulder. Eshu's head quickly turned. Looking at Hollis' hand, he began to laugh wistfully. Then he shook his head and continued with the story.
"We were able to raise Stutter, who joined us there. We did a quick recon of the building. The hostages were bound with clothing.
"The plan was simple, but we knew seconds would count. We had to catch this woman off-guard - take her down quickly before she could harm the hostages. All three of us entered from different directions at once. That's when it went bad." His voice cracked slightly and he struggled to recompose himself.
"There was not just one manikin - there were about a dozen of them. Which one was the target? I went for the one in the center. She had a mind. I could feel it. But repeated attacks did not seem to affect it.
"The physical attacks turned out to be much more effective. The manikins, the clothes, ... they all came to life and attacked us. We tore them apart effectively enough, but ... but it ... took too long."
"Nankgabo!" He slammed his cast sideways into the brick arch, and grimaced from the sudden jolt of pain. "By the time we freed them from the clothing, four were dead."
"Lavender ..." He swallowed. He was looking away, but Hollis could hear a sniffle. "Lavender was in shock. I tried to be a leader. I tried to console her. I ... put my hand on her shoulder and tried to tell her that we had saved four of them. She grabbed my arm and slammed me to the ground."
He chuckled slightly, rubbing his shoulder. "I think she hurt me worse than the manikins did."
He immediately got serious again. "Four dead. And the puppet master got away. It was my first command. And I blew it."
Hollis chomped on the pipe he had carried since college. One thought after another flitted through his head and he tried to grab one and ride it to a conclusion.
"You do not understand," said Eshu. "They relied upon me. You should have seen the look in their eyes." He turned to Hollis. "They trusted me, you could see it in their eyes. That look turned to disbelief and betrayal as they died." Eshu shook his head.
Hollis swallowed heavily. He had never seen anyone die as Eshu just had. He wondered if Lavender and Stutter were feeling this way. He took the pipe from his mouth and waved it vaguely as he spoke.
"Eshu, I think I know what you're going through...." Eshu interrupted him.
"No, you can't know. First, I am nearly killed in an explosion. Now this." Eshu took a deep breath. "Perhaps I am not fit to be a Southern Knight. I am not sure anymore why I am here." Eshu walked out of the Citadel.
"Eshu, wait!" Hollis called futilely. Now what, thought Hollis. He had to go check on Lavender and Stutter, but he had no idea where they were. Perhaps they would answer on their communicators. The Knights needed to talk this through or it would eat them alive. Before he could turn to go to the elevators, Hollis saw uniformed police officers approaching him, led by the Knight's liaison to the Mayor's office, Kasim Reed. Hollis straightened his shoulders, shoved the pipe into his mouth, and walked forward to talk to the police officers. "Gentlemen, may I help you?" he asked with cordiality that he did not feel. This was going to be a long day.
Manikin starred at the poster on the wall as one would stare at the mirror as she spoke to herself.
"It was the pretty bitch." She said with a voice charged with hate.
"My plan was perfect. There was nothing that could have gone wrong. It was beautiful."
Cloth floated around her, like something out of a Mary Poppins film.
"Then the Purple Knight shows up and ruins everything. She killed those people. It was her fault. She thinks she is better then me now. In her cute little mask and her tight little butt. The vanity of youth. But it all fades doesn't it."
The cloth's gentle floating increased in speed as the rantings became more emotional. A purple dress seemed to reshape itself and other clothes joined it until one could recognize it as a likeness of Lavender.
"Yes it all fades but you will find that out now."
The Manikin turned to face the cloth scarecrow.
"Oh yes, I will make you pay for ruining me. I will wipe that pretty little smile of your pretty little face. I will destroy any of the tagalongs you bring along just to see you suffer."
... The rantings and the plans for revenge continued long into the night.
Hostage Situation Goes Bad
by Adam Stein, Staff Writer
The Atlanta Chronicle, Volume 3, Number 14, Saturday, July
13, 2002
ATLANTA -- In what one police veteran called the most tragic disaster in the Atlanta Police Departments history, four hostages were killed when the Southern Knights stormed the base of the terrorist only known as Manikin.
The incident started at a fall fashion show being held at Phipps Plaza where the mall stores got the opportunity to show off some of the upcoming clothing lines that they were offering. It was not a big event, mostly getting its audience from normal mall traffic with witness's reporting about one hundred people in the audience when the incident started.
"At first, it seemed like one of the models just tripped. Then another until they were laying on the runway." One Emory student claimed. "It was funny at first but then it wasn't."
It seems that the fall fashion line had taken on a life of it's own and were causing havoc. Ties were slithering like snakes. Athletic uniforms were rushing down the hallway in formation. One area of the plaza looked like a bad impression of a fetish club as the lingerie from Victoria's Secrets entangled up some or the gawking crowd. A panic ensued and was only stopped by the arrival of Lavender and Omo Eshu of Atlanta's Southern Knights.
They took care of the crowd. Herding them into a bookstore where they would be safe from the cloth apparitions. At sometime during the confusion, six of the runway models were abducted from the scene. The only lead being a van seen leaving the scene. It was then that Manikin made her presence known with a televised demand for $250 million dollars or else the city would suffer. She promised a demonstration of her powers thirty minutes after the presentation.
The Southern Knights took charge of the situation and nothing seemed to go right from there. As of the time of this writing the details of exactly what happened are still sketchy. Thirty minutes after her initial broadcast Manikin made good her threat and clothing took on a life of it's own in a four mile area around Buckhead. This would not have been disastrous except for the people on the road. You can just imagine the chaos that would happen if you cloths started jerking your hands or your hat jumped down over your eyes while you were doing fifty miles per hour. More than 100 cars were involved in accidents with over 500 people injured.
"I wasn't sure of the protocol. We knew a Millennial was involved so it seemed the Knights should be in charge." Stated Lieutenant Jackson of the Atlanta PD, the ranking officer who first arrived at the scene at Phipps. "I thought they had everything under control."
The Knights found the base of the Manikin and stormed it in an attempt to rescue the hostages. In the ensuing battle four of the hostages were killed and the two remaining were critically injured. The Southern Knights have made no statement and Chief Pennington, newly placed in his position by the Mayor, promised a full investigation into the situation. "Right now I can't tell you what happened but I promise you I will. We are looking to interview the involved Knights and until the investigation is finished I'm not going to second guess their decisions. If it is determined that they are at fault, then you have my guarantee that they will be punished appropriately."
Maybe It's Time for the Southern
"Nots"
Editorial by Rick Rose, Staff Writer
The Atlanta Chronicle, Volume 3, Number 14, Saturday, July
13, 2002
By now you all have heard about fiasco that happened in Buckhead that resulted in the deaths of at least four people, the injury of hundreds more and hundreds of thousands of dollars of property damage. How did this happen? How did three unknown individuals get placed in charge of a police investigation and then screw it up so bad? It was a time bomb that was bound to go off and inevitable given the situation. Let us review.
The Atlanta government sponsors a division of the police department to deal with Millennial Crime. They decide that they need Millennials to combat Millennial Crime. OK How do they get these millennials? They hold a job fair where anyone who can glow in the dark can come in and apply. Did I say apply? I'm not sure that is the proper word, as you didn't have to give your name or occupation or submit to any kind of background check. After picking some of these individuals with a consistency of standards that seems akin to drawing names out of a hat. The city gives them badges and sends them out on their own. Some of them are later required to take a couple seminars on police procedures to make sure they are qualified.
All other police recruits go have a background check. Even bartenders and barbers have to register with the state but the Southern Knights are given police powers and don't even need to give their names.
They performed well at first and they have saved countless lives and this city a number of times but there has never been any accountability. No one is responsible for reviewing their performance. A performance that has been lacking.
Omo Eshu, Stutter and Lavender were placed in charge of a hostage situation. The Atlanta PD has experienced hostage negotiators on staff. Let us look at the qualifications of these three Knights. Wait, we can't because nobody in the Atlanta PD knows what qualifications these three have. Stutter is fast, Lavender flies and Omo Eshu has a funny sounding name that roughly translates to Son of the Trickster. Yes, The person placed in charge of six lives named himself after a pagan god of mischief.
Maybe it is time that the City rethinks the Southern Knights. They have members who are qualified. (The most qualified member of the team seems to be the only member of the team who is not a millennial at all.) It was a good idea that lacks in its execution and it is time that somebody steps up to the plate and fixes the errors before there are more senseless deaths.
Copyright © by Bill Selwa, Barry Biddlecomb, Mike Christodoulou, Dirk Loedding, and Adam Stein. All rights reserved.