"Keepers Tenneson and Kendrick, report to administration. Keepers Tenneson and Kendrick, report to administration."
The disembodied voice rang out through the atrium where Marcus and James were herding mountain goats to send into the virex's habitat. They shared a quick glance before dismounting the horses, handing them off to the two recruits Hernandez had assigned them.
"You just need to get them through the door. They'll figure it out from there." James took a moment with the two of them to go through the process of getting them through the facility to the containment chambers before returning to Marcus.
It had been a few days since the scrape at the bar, and he hadn't gotten the chance to talk to Victoria at all. Primarily because it seemed like she was doing her best to avoid him completely.
"Any idea what this is about?" James asked.
Marcus shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."
Grant Jeong was the head of administration at the reserve. If he deemed it worth his time to meet with a keeper personally, it was either very bad, or very good. He leaned against the desk in his office, his perfectly tailored suit a sharp contrast to the people in the building that actually did the work. Reynolds and Ophelia already occupied the two chairs in front of the desk.
"Good, we're all here." He said, clapping his hands together and walking around the desk to sit down. "Sorry to pull you away, but we have an urgent matter to discuss."
"Of course, sir. What's going on?" Marcus looked between Ophelia and Reynolds, then back up to him.
"A large donor requested our assistance earlier today. Apparently they have a griffon problem. The two of you are the most experienced with the species, so you'll be heading the team. Ms. Harris and Mr. Reynolds were kind enough to volunteer to go with you." Grant held a folder out to them. James took it and immediately started to scan the first few pages.
"What kind of griffon problem?" Marcus asked, skepticism thick in his tone. "Unless you're invading their territory, they're docile."
"Which is exactly what's happening." James said, looking up from the page he was reading. "You can't be serious." He addressed Grant as he handed the paperwork over to Marcus.
"Insubordination will not be tolerated, Keeper Kendrick." Grant's tone shifted. "And yes, I am very serious. Arcanex is just one of the companies struggling for territory in the Colorado Rockies. They also keep the lights on here." He gestured in a circle with his hand. "Without them, the bills don't get paid. I don't get paid. You don't get paid."
Marcus' brows furrowed as he read. Something about valuable metals infused by leyline magic—yada yada yada. "So what? You want us to go out and move some griffons from their home so..." He tapped his finger on the initials at the bottom of the page. "W.H. can bleed a mountain of some silver? What happens when they move to the next mountain?" He snapped the folder shut. "We don't do this kind of thing."
Grant steepled his fingers, elbows on his desk. "First, this isn't a request." His eyes flicked between Marcus and James. "If you want to maintain your status as keepers, you'll do the jobs assigned to you. Second, I did a lot of lobbying for this job. The board wanted to go in and hunt them down. Permanently solve the problem. I presented a different plan in attempt to save their lives."
"There's no government regulation over this?" The initial edge in James' tone had softened.
"The land is already pending sale to whomever can clear the griffons."
Marcus' jaw clenched, muscles tensing. "Our choices are either clear the griffons or lose our jobs and let them die? There's no way this is legal. The birds are probably not even the only species out there this mine is going to disrupt."
"They're the only species that are attacking the survey groups that go up the mountain." Grant rolled his eyes like the moral quandary tested his patience.
"Yeah? Something tells me if I walked into your house to see what I could blow up you'd have some issues too," Marcus snapped at him.
Grant took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let out a slow sigh. "I understand your misgivings, Keeper Tenneson. I really do. This is going to happen regardless of how you feel about it." Grant held eye contact with him, daring him to continue to question his authority.
"So that's it? Do it or we're fired?"
"Crude," Grant tilted his head slightly before affirming with a grin and a quick nod. "But yes, that's it."
Marcus bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, staring at the man for a long silent moment. Finally, he flung the folder onto the desk, sending it spinning on its way back to his boss. Its contents, as well as several other folders and sheets, scattered to the air as he turned to walk out.
"Where are you going, Tenneson!?" Grant called after him.
"To pack!" he called back, not bothering to turn while adding under his breath, "You slimy fuck."
Marcus didn't bother waiting for James. He'd catch up. Fingers shaking with fury, it took him several attempted to get the combination lock on his locker undone. Once he did he tossed it over his shoulder and started throwing the essentials into his duffle. He'd still need to stop at home to pick up some clothes, but he needed to get out of here before he did something stupid.
"You alright?" Victoria stepped into the locker room, grabbing his lock off the floor.
Marcus froze and took a deep breath, but James saved him by sidling in behind her to head for his own locker. "It's not a good time, Hernandez."
"What happened?"
Her eyes never left him as James explained the situation. The stare seared the back of his neck as he quickly changed out of his jumpsuit and into street clothes.
"What the fuck?" She let out in a hushed breath. "You guys are going to do it?"
"What choice do we have?" Marcus threw his bag over his shoulder and headed for the door. Victoria let him pass, but she was hot on his tail.
"Hey, I get your pissed, but you can stop to talk to me for a second."
"It's not a good time, Victoria." He repeated what James had said, not certain of his ability to form coherent sentences of his own thoughts at the moment.
"Yeah, no shit. If you stop for a second, though, we might be able to talk through this and figure something out." She chased him all the way out of the building and to his truck, where she reached out and grabbed his wrist as he tossed the bag into the bed.
His muscles tensed at her touch, fists clenched, and she immediately let him go. She took a slow step back, and his eyes snapped shut. His adrenaline was still pumping, but his natural response to fight may have just changed their dynamic for good. There was enough clarity to recognize that at least.
When he opened his eyes again and turned to look at her, any concern she'd carried had left her face, replaced by a cold glare through narrowed eyes. "I'm sorry, Victoria. I've gotta go." He did his best to keep his voice calm, urging his body to relax, though it was reluctant to follow any direction.
Her eyes remained locked on him for a beat. The corner of her lip twitched ever so slightly and her nostrils flared before she spoke. "I always admired your character, Tenneson. Even when we didn't get along, or I didn't agree, you were always true to yourself." She brushed windswept hair from her face, giving him a good look at her chilly gaze as it turned to one of utter disappointment. She gave him the once over and scoffed. "Turns out I was wrong. All those principles and you're just going to fold. You're just another coward."
The adrenaline dumped from his system immediately, and he suddenly felt violently ill. Color drained from his face as he plopped into the driver's seat and folded over on himself, pressing his forehead into the steering wheel. He wanted to blame the adrenaline dump at least, but it wasn't true.
She was right.
He didn't want to face that right now. He white knuckled the wheel, taking a few deep breaths in hopes of expelling the thoughts. What was he supposed to do? Just let the birds die? He'd taken a full extension punch to the chest from a titanvein silverback and found his feet afterward. Victoria Hernandez says one word and slips right through the cracks in his armor.
As his fingers left the wheel to snag the pack of smokes in his jacket pocket, his phone buzzed with the itinerary. They were leaving in two hours. Gear was already getting loaded.
Marcus used the silence of the drive to rack his mind. There had to be some kind of loophole. The government had already okay'd the deal, so it was unlikely to come from them. What else could he do?
The constant buzz of ignored phone calls was not making it easier to think. James—Ophelia—Callie—his mother—Calliope again. By the time he got home the word was still with him, resting in his stomach like he'd eaten something rotten.
Coward
The image of the paperwork burned into his mind. Site Viability Interference Removal Form in big bold letters at the top. They had a stock form for this shit. It made him physically ill. Before he knew it, he was alone in the back of a jet, staring down into his lap with the roar of engines muted under the pressure in his skull.
James and Ophelia both tried to get him to speak, gently at first. Then, with concern, but Marcus barely heard them. He glanced up at Ophelia as she sat something cold on his lap. She said something. Thirsty, maybe? When he just stared at her and didn't respond, she blushed and walked away.
Loopholes. Loopholes. Loopholes.
He kept repeating the word in his mind, on one hand hoping it would help him think of something, but on the other just to get her voice out of his head. He wasn't good at the bureaucratic bullshit. How was he supposed to know what to...The moment they landed, and the stairs dropped to let them descend, Marcus was on his phone.
"Hey, you alright?" Harold answered the phone on the first ring, the sounds of his office in the background. He'd never answer while he was at work, which meant their mother got to him.
"No." He answered honestly. "Harry, I need you to tell me everything you know about protected wildlife areas in the Colorado Rockies."
"Ooof, hold on." There was a shifting sound on the other end, and then the sound of a closing door. "Okay, the basics? There isn't much legally anymore. After the Third World War, most indigenous groups were displaced from the Rockies—pushed into dense population zones by land buyouts and relocation agreements. There were some rumors a few years back about eco-terrorists who were trying to stop big corporations from moving into the mountains to protect the natural wildlife."
"So what you're saying is there's really no legitimate legal reason one of these large companies couldn't purchase a patch of land and clear it of its resources."
"I'm not an expert on conservation law, but I don't think so," Harold said a sense of worry taking his voice. "Are you alright, Marcus?"
He did his best to mask his voice in feigned happiness. "Of course, just doing some research. Thanks Harry, I'll talk to you later." He hung up quickly and cursed. Cold Colorado air hit his face as the others were loading up a car that was set to take them to a hotel for the night. There had to be something he was missing.
"Hey brother." James walked over, phone in hand. "Its Callie. She's worried about you. Says you keep ignoring her calls."
Calliope was the last person he needed to talk to right now. If anyone was going to convince him to not do something stupid, it was her. He took the phone and took a deep breath, putting on his happy voice again. "Hey Calliope."
"You're thinking of doing something stupid. You better not." His big sister's voice cut through the phone.
"I'd never." He lied.
"Marcus." Her voice lowered. "I'm serious. Just go up that mountain, move those birds, and come home. Do you understand me?"
"That's the plan, Callie." A familiar lump formed in his throat.
There was a deep sigh from the other end of the line, followed by a long moment of silence. "Bailing you out of jail and trying to get you out of federal prison are two different things, Marcus. Please, just do your job and come back home."
"Callie, honestly, it's fine." He looked up at James. Judging by the look he was getting from him, he could also see straight through his lie. "We're going to go to the hotel, get a good night's rest and go move some griffons in the morning."
After numerous more heartbreaking lies, Marcus finally gave the phone back to James. He assured his wife he would keep an eye on him, and they all piled into the SUV waiting for them on the runway.
The 'hotel' in the little town they'd landed in was about as bare-bones as it got. Each room had a manual water pump in the sink, one bed, and its own designated outhouse about forty feet outside the door. In a rush, Marcus claimed the room nearest the road, just in case he needed to slip off undetected. He had one more phone call to make.
"Son?" His father's voice was quiet, and he was certain he could hear Calliope and his mother arguing not far away. "You've got your mother in a real tizzy here."
"I know, I'm sorry, Dad. I have a quick hypothetical question for you, though."
"Okay. Huh...? Oh, uhh... No, it's Tony from down the road. Said his dog got out again. I'm gonna go check the yard, see if he's getting into my carrots like last time." His dad was silent for a second before speaking again. "What's the hypothetical?"
"Lets say you needed to disable a bunch of magi-tech mining equipment, but you didn't want it to get linked back to you."
"Hypothetically?" his father asked, absolutely unconvinced.
"Of course."
"Find a scapegoat." His father answered instantly. "Big money companies like that always have environmental groups up their ass, and some of those environmental groups do things in a less than legal way. Hell, you wait long enough, they might just do it for you. Oh... uhh... hypothetically."
"So, would you say some of these groups would be happy to take credit for something like that?"
"I would say to try to make contact with them first, but in my experience they absolutely would. The only reason they don't do it is because they don't have the resources to execute anything that would properly disable a system like that."
"Okay, and hypothetically..what would you need to do that?"
"Easy way? A bomb. Not exactly subtle, though. Back in my day, all that magi-tech ran off the same chips your phone and computers run on, though. They were just reinforced with quartz or whatever that other shit your sister sells to harness ley line energy, so a big enough electrical surge could ruin anything they were running. Don't imagine it's changed too much."
"Thanks, Pop."
"Son," his father paused. He was half expecting to get another lecture when his dad simply said, "You be careful, alright?"
"I will, I love you dad."
"I love you too, son."
Marcus crumpled onto the bed, a lump in the center of his back keeping even this moment of silence from being comforting. A big electrical charge was something he could do. Enough power built up, the stun gauntlets delivered enough power to drop a full grown dragon. Should fry anything a machine could hold, even magically reinforced. Pop was never one of those guys who wouldn't talk about their time in the service, but he didn't offer the information either. Times like this he understood why.
"Where the fuck am I going to find a tree hugging bomb squad?" He mumbled to himself. Getting the job done would be dangerous. It was unlikely Arcanex would leave expensive equipment like that without security, but getting past a couple mall cops shouldn't be that difficult. He just needed the voluntary fall guy.
His eyes shot open as a gentle knock resonated through the quiet room.