Spies Spies and More Spies
Sept 14, 2018 14:45:12 GMT -8
Post by jazzisblues on Sept 14, 2018 14:45:12 GMT -8
The Division X Operations Center, London, Saturday 18:00
The room was dark except for the light coming from the myriad of computer displays, and the soft lighting at floor level. The lights were a soft blue at the moment indicating the lowest alert state for the operations center of Division X. The lighting would change only at his command to raise the alert level if one of their spies reported an increase in militant X activity. Their mandate was the study of the X-Factor in the genetic structure of some persons, he refused to call them human, who had special abilities far beyond what was normal. Their real purpose was to catalog, monitor, and control X's in the world, specifically in the UK. There were similar organizations in all of the major countries of the world, but coordination was just one of the many things they struggled with. As such they lobbied, and sponsored groups who lobbied, for the X-Registration Act, and maintained a force training to deal with the threat presented by these X's.
Most pressing, and disturbing, at present was the failure of the parliament to pass the X-Registration Act. Lord Spurling, once considered a reliable anti-X vote, had voted against the act and by that stroke had, for now, killed it. There had to be a reason why he had changed his vote. The Director wasn't sure why he'd flipped at the last minute. It was possible that X's had gotten to him and were exerting pressure on him. There was certainly that event with his daughter on her way to school. The video's of that were all over the internet. The boy, a classmate of Spurling's daughter was in the hospital. He would tend to that soon enough, but it would also be necessary to, "talk," with Spurling. His Lordship needed to learn what his place in all of this really was, and who he should really be afraid of.
"Director?" he didn't look up as the young man approached.
"What is it?"
"We got the report back from the explosion at Hahn Corporation, Sir," the young man consulted the tablet in his hand as he spoke. "The only fatality was, unfortunately, our agent, the rest of them escaped with relatively minor injuries," he swiped through the information in the report before continuing, "The target was hospitalized for minor surgery, a hip wound, and the constable was treated and released for a dislocated shoulder." His voice was dispassionate relating events with no particular inflection or purpose.
"And the weapon?" the Director inquired more concerned about their weapon than the agent who'd been killed, a low level agent, dedicated, but like all such utterly disposable. The weapon was far more valuable.
"Recovering, Sir, as you know it takes some time for it to restore itself after such an event," the assistant checked another report, "Medical estimates 3 weeks to restore to full operational status."
"Bring the others up," it wasn't emotion, how could one be emotional about a thing, a tool, "clearly the firepower at hand is insufficient, we need to gather new estimates."
"Of course, Sir," he made a note on the tablet consulting another section of the report, "It appears that the target received aid from several X's, not all of which have we identified. We can identify the target herself of course, as well as the constable, but it appears that there are at least two more that we do not have identification on. Though we do have a photograph of one of them." His fingers moved across the tablet and the picture of a dark haired young woman with fair skin, and pale blue eyes looked out at him.
The assistant consulted another report, "Sir, we do have some additional information on Lord Spurling," his brow furrowed as he read the report, "He was approached by a man at the opera Friday night, we don't know the content of their conversation, but shortly thereafter, his guard detail shot and killed each other."
"Another X, do we have identification?"
"No, Sir, there was no CCTV in the opera house, but the description is of a man of noble bearing and of middle years," he made a note that they must dig deeper and get a picture of this man.
"Keep looking," the director instructed, "also keep looking for this werewolf creature that's been stalking the east end, we know that it has killed at least three people."
"Of course, Sir," he flipped to another report on his tablet, "Also, Bishop Alfred Boehman was kidnapped by X's last week, and was rescued, the media has been instructed that he was rescued by paramilitary forces from the armed service, but the on site reports make it clear that it was X's that rescued him." Another swipe of his fingers and another picture appeared on the larger screen, "that likely explains why he too seems to have flipped and is now speaking out in favor of X's from his pulpit."
"He'll have to be dealt with," he looked at the growing array of photos on the screen thoughtfully, mentally weighing what forces to apply, what pressure to exert and which to simply wipe off the board. His phone chirped, not the official one from the division, but his personal one. He touched the screen to bring up the message, read it, closed the app and put it back into his pocket turning back to the images on the screen, "I know who you are."
The room was dark except for the light coming from the myriad of computer displays, and the soft lighting at floor level. The lights were a soft blue at the moment indicating the lowest alert state for the operations center of Division X. The lighting would change only at his command to raise the alert level if one of their spies reported an increase in militant X activity. Their mandate was the study of the X-Factor in the genetic structure of some persons, he refused to call them human, who had special abilities far beyond what was normal. Their real purpose was to catalog, monitor, and control X's in the world, specifically in the UK. There were similar organizations in all of the major countries of the world, but coordination was just one of the many things they struggled with. As such they lobbied, and sponsored groups who lobbied, for the X-Registration Act, and maintained a force training to deal with the threat presented by these X's.
Most pressing, and disturbing, at present was the failure of the parliament to pass the X-Registration Act. Lord Spurling, once considered a reliable anti-X vote, had voted against the act and by that stroke had, for now, killed it. There had to be a reason why he had changed his vote. The Director wasn't sure why he'd flipped at the last minute. It was possible that X's had gotten to him and were exerting pressure on him. There was certainly that event with his daughter on her way to school. The video's of that were all over the internet. The boy, a classmate of Spurling's daughter was in the hospital. He would tend to that soon enough, but it would also be necessary to, "talk," with Spurling. His Lordship needed to learn what his place in all of this really was, and who he should really be afraid of.
"Director?" he didn't look up as the young man approached.
"What is it?"
"We got the report back from the explosion at Hahn Corporation, Sir," the young man consulted the tablet in his hand as he spoke. "The only fatality was, unfortunately, our agent, the rest of them escaped with relatively minor injuries," he swiped through the information in the report before continuing, "The target was hospitalized for minor surgery, a hip wound, and the constable was treated and released for a dislocated shoulder." His voice was dispassionate relating events with no particular inflection or purpose.
"And the weapon?" the Director inquired more concerned about their weapon than the agent who'd been killed, a low level agent, dedicated, but like all such utterly disposable. The weapon was far more valuable.
"Recovering, Sir, as you know it takes some time for it to restore itself after such an event," the assistant checked another report, "Medical estimates 3 weeks to restore to full operational status."
"Bring the others up," it wasn't emotion, how could one be emotional about a thing, a tool, "clearly the firepower at hand is insufficient, we need to gather new estimates."
"Of course, Sir," he made a note on the tablet consulting another section of the report, "It appears that the target received aid from several X's, not all of which have we identified. We can identify the target herself of course, as well as the constable, but it appears that there are at least two more that we do not have identification on. Though we do have a photograph of one of them." His fingers moved across the tablet and the picture of a dark haired young woman with fair skin, and pale blue eyes looked out at him.
The assistant consulted another report, "Sir, we do have some additional information on Lord Spurling," his brow furrowed as he read the report, "He was approached by a man at the opera Friday night, we don't know the content of their conversation, but shortly thereafter, his guard detail shot and killed each other."
"Another X, do we have identification?"
"No, Sir, there was no CCTV in the opera house, but the description is of a man of noble bearing and of middle years," he made a note that they must dig deeper and get a picture of this man.
"Keep looking," the director instructed, "also keep looking for this werewolf creature that's been stalking the east end, we know that it has killed at least three people."
"Of course, Sir," he flipped to another report on his tablet, "Also, Bishop Alfred Boehman was kidnapped by X's last week, and was rescued, the media has been instructed that he was rescued by paramilitary forces from the armed service, but the on site reports make it clear that it was X's that rescued him." Another swipe of his fingers and another picture appeared on the larger screen, "that likely explains why he too seems to have flipped and is now speaking out in favor of X's from his pulpit."
"He'll have to be dealt with," he looked at the growing array of photos on the screen thoughtfully, mentally weighing what forces to apply, what pressure to exert and which to simply wipe off the board. His phone chirped, not the official one from the division, but his personal one. He touched the screen to bring up the message, read it, closed the app and put it back into his pocket turning back to the images on the screen, "I know who you are."