Armageddon: The Broken Man - ACT 1

Chapter 18 - California

Chapter 18 - California

>RACHEL GRIFF

//REWIND//12__HRS//

I had way better things to do than just sit around in my room all day, but I had no idea what. Sleep, maybe? I hadn't slept in at least four days.

I crawled over to my laptop. It was already on, thank god -- I never really turned it off, it took eons to turn back on -- and a browser window was already open. I didn't remember accessing it, but I hadn't remembered that much ever since I threw my sleep schedule out the window.

The worst memory blank was when I woke up in my FHTC suit on a schoolbus full of middle and highschoolers. They were all cheering about something, and I had figured it was better not to ask about anything. I took an obligatory bow, gave the standard protocol FHTC mini-speech, and teleported to the outside of the bus.

I had found bulletholes that had to be from a mounted Gatling gun peppering the metal casing. For those who didn't know, a Gatling gun is essentially a bulkier, nerf-worthy version of a machine gun.

Someone had been trying to provoke either the government or FHTC into action. The individual was likely possessing both violent or psychopathic tendencies and large firepower. Both profiles could easily fit Lavelark.

Anyways, back to the present, where I take pride in sporting bags under my eyes that would probably qualify as carry-ons. The browser window was open to a map of the U.S. with a handful of event markers -- with convenient time and date annotations -- in each timezone. Had I made this?

Scratch that, someone added a note at the bottom of the map: come and get me.

Sure, I may be stupid and cocky on occasion, but it doesn't seem like something I'd write on my own map. I'll take the bait; I don't have anything better to do besides sleep, and even that seems pretty unappealing.

I looked up the nearest date, which was set for tomorrow. The marker was set squarely on Los Angeles, California. Is it a possibility that some anonymous, crazed fanboy is trying to get me in a swimsuit? Maybe. I don't care.

I won't object to a beach trip, especially if it's already on the map.

//TIMESKIP//24__HRS//

A shower, a quick drop-by at the best beach shop on Google, and about half an hour of struggling to cover my own back with sunscreen later, I was ready to attempt to teleport a decent two thousand miles in one sitting. Think of it like trying to eat a four course meal. It's not the task itself that seems grueling, but the afteraffects.

I teleported back home a few months ago because I wanted something from my room and almost passed out directly after arrival. That was roughly half the distance, but that was also a few months ago. I like to think I've improved in terms of stamina.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

After precisely four seconds of the worst scent ever, I was in California, ten minutes before I was supposed to arrive. I gagged and waved away the scent of sulphur, which was soon replaced with the slightly better odor of a dead seagull.

Dear god, she's eating a seagull.

I'll skimp on the description of the mangled carcass, besides the facts that it was very mangled and definitely a carcass. I took one look at it and threw up in my mouth; the girl -- it wasn't Lavelark, and I wasn't sure whether or not to be thankful for that -- looked at me sideways, spat out her mouthful, and tossed the bird over her shoulder. She wiped the blood from her mouth with her sleeve and smiled, showing off some frighteningly large canines. She reached out to shake my hand.

I glanced between her and her hand. Again, I'll skimp on the description for my own sake, but it was anything but clean. She shrugged it off and tucked both her hands into her hoodie's front pocket. The hoodie itself was faded, but it was probably some shade of green once. Her hood covered her head, but I could still see the messy black bangs that stuck out from behind her ears. Her eyes were a strange shade of brown that wanted to shift between a soft umber and gray.

"You can't blame me for eating. You weren't supposed to be here yet, if at all." She said, elbowing my side. "The name's Natasha, though."

"Rachel Griff. Not that you didn't know."

She turned to me and held her right hand in front of my forehead. "Well, I figure that's long enough. See you next time. Try not to die." She said and flicked me right in the forehead.

I woke up on my bedroom floor facing my computer screen. The screen was still on, and was open to yet another unfamiliar browser page.

//PLAY//EXTRAS//RG__SCREEN//

FHTC DATA
Subject: Natasha Bell

Bell appears to have carnivore-like teeth, even though her DNA is exactly human. This marks her as an AHB, even though one that seems to be immortal. No existing data shows her date of birth, but it's suspected that there are traces of her as far back as the founding days of the old Silver Key Society. Bell has had confirmed interactions with the following AHB's: Kathryn Lavelark, all of the Godslayers and many of their unnamed Elites, the presumably dead GL1TCH and Cheshire, Paige Turner, and has considerable ties to the Liddel family, if only older generations of it.

Bell appears to be a teenage girl, and has been stuck at roughly seventeen for at least the last thirty years. She is highly social and welcoming, but is vicious when provoked. Such is a situation where wolf-like teeth become deadly. Her bite is like that of a Tasmanian devil -- bite force quotient 181 -- and can rip through protective armor and still crush bone on the first attack. Exercise caution.

In addition to inhuman teeth structures, Bell may take on more wolflike attributes if absolutely necessary mid battle. This transformation is not confirmed, as was only observed under the possible influence of the old GL1TCH's gaseous hallucinogens.

Bell's assumed mother introduced the ties between her family and the Liddel's, and is in fact much alive today, but her whereabouts are untraceable, as her daughter's.

//REBOOT__MONITOR//

Well, the carnivore bit might explain the whole 'seagull' thing with Natasha. On the other hand, it leaves me to wonder: if she could eat anything, why a seagull? Do they taste good?

And how did she get me to teleport back to my own room? I'm pretty sure the only person that could ever force a teleport was Willow, but she was -- you know. Not exactly able to do that anymore. There was the same 'flipped switch' sensation, but there was no mention of Natasha having any psychic ability, like Willow had.