It's here!
I hope you've all been looking forward to this as much as I have. ^_^
Title: Prometheus Unbound
Author: That'd be me. *grins* Andrew, Obsidian, call me what you want. But only if it's nice. ;)
Rating: R (C'mon, it's a sequel to Pantheon. What did you expect? ;) )
Comments: At long last, it's finally here. ^_^ Hopefully you'll like this one as much as you did Pantheon, if not more so. Now, there is going to be a third fandom included this time around, but, as before, I'm not telling you what it is, yet. You'll find out soon enough, don't worry.
Legal Disclaimer: I do not own 'D.E.B.S.', as I am not Angela Robinson. I also don't own 'The Pretender' (which was created by Steven Long Mitchell and Craig W. Van Sickle). Nor do I own .
Prologue
An icy wind blew over the barren, lifeless landscape, howling above the compound.
It had been built a long time ago, with money carefully siphoned off from certain businesses and corporations, and constructed in such a remote, uninviting area of the world that it had remained undiscovered, waiting until a time when it was needed.
Waiting for now.
Most levels appeared utilitarian, even spartan, given more to function then form. There were no windows, even on the one floor that was actually above ground level.
His people didn't need such luxuries. The few that actually stayed there had more important things to worry about. His own living quarters, of course, were fully furnished. Given that he didn't dare show his face where they might see him, they had to be.
Or he hadn't dared, at least.
A winding network of underground ventillation shafts stretching all over the surrounding countryside made certain that any intake or exhaust vents were far enough away that they would remain unnoticed and unconnected with the base. Among them was a small shaft with a number of very quiet but very powerful fans meant to pull the smoke away from the soft fire that flickered inside the stone fireplace he'd had installed in his office area. The fire itself barely illuminated the oak shelves and leather books that lines the room. An oversized antique desk occupied one side of the office, the high-backed chair behind it turned to one side, empty. A number of 3-D pipes worked their way across the screen saver on the 20-inch plasma screen of the computer on his desk, next to which was an assortment of papers and the odd pen or two.
The flat-screen television on the wall opposite the desk cast an odd white and blue illumination that clashed with the yellow light from the fire, but he barely noticed. Deep in an overstuffed armchair, he sat staring at the screen intently.
Fifteen minutes earlier, the phone had rung and a somewhat familiar woman's voice had told him, "Turn on the news. I think you'll be very interested in the lead story," before hanging up.
As it turned out, she'd been right.
"-tinuing to unfold in the wake of the collapse of the multinational corporation known as The Centre. As some of our earlier viewers know, The Centre was a private corporation located in Blue Cove, Delaware. Its apparent function was to accept "contracts" or "clients" from various sources, including the military, and provide them with information. This information was obtained from "residents" of the Centre, children and adults with a variety of unusual talents, kept in an isolated environment to make them more productive."
His eyebrows rose at the sight of The Centre, which looked distinctly worse for wear. Windows had been blown out on every level of the Tower, which - for whatever reason - now had a giant hole in it. When the screen switched to a view of the inside, they rose even higher. It was clear a major battle had been fought there.
Fought, and lost.
"According to sources involved in the investigation, The Centre did initially do the beneficial work its public facade claimed, which resulted in the creation of four democratic countries, the Korean peace accords and other such altruistic ends. Later, however, it became more self-serving and destructive.
"The Chairman of The Centre, James Parker, was arrested on a variety of charges, including kidnapping, blackmail, embezzlement, conspiracy, and murder, and is currently facing life in prison with no chance of parole."
He'd chuckled at that, the first sound he'd made since the story had begun. He hoped Parker could appreciate the irony of the situation. He was sure that Jarod and the others like him could.
The screenshot they used showed an older man then he remembered, but that was only to be expected, he supposed.
It had, after all, been some time.
"So far, the D.E.B.S. have declined to comment on their surprising role in what officials are calling the largest coordinated simultaneous assault on a criminal network in history. Reports indicate that they were able to direct local and federal police, government agents, and even military forces from every country in which a Centre satellite office was located. As most of our viewers know, the D.E.B.S. typically deal more with so-called "super-villains", such as Lucy Diamond."
They began showing what little pictures or clips they had relating to Diamond, and he had to admit that she was something of a striking, dynamic individual. It was a pity he wasn't likely to be able to convince her to come work for him, but he knew from experience that someone who was used to running their own criminal empire would never accept a subservient position to anyone else. The best he could have hoped for was a partnership, and he suspected their goals were far too different for that to work.
The reported confirmed that when she continued speaking, but not in the way he'd been expecting.
"In an ironic twist, Diamond herself was supposedly actually involved in taking down The Centre. Authorities are being extremely vague about the details, but one of the D.E.B.S.' top agents, Amy Bradshaw, has gone on record saying, quote, 'This mission really couldn't have succeeded without Lucy. It's because of that, as well as several other things I can't talk about, that she and her people were offered pardons within the United States, among other countries.'"
His eyes widened as they showed footage of a tall blonde bustling through a crowd of reporters without slowing down once. Between the glimpse of her face, her stature, and the effortless grace with which she moved, he would have recognized her anywhere.
Well, well, well. Little Sekhmet, all grown up.
He let the reporter's voice fade into the background, his thoughts taking priority to what she had to say. He already knew everything she was telling America - or the world, even - about The Centre, after all, and hardly cared about the oh-so-tragic story of Jarod and his family. Unlike Parker, he'd never thought that Jarod was the 'key to the Centre's continued success' He was important, to be certain, but not the only important one.
And as recent events proved, he wasn't nearly as dangerous.
The door to the study opened slowly and Ricky "Trick" Rogers hesitantly moved a few steps inside. Aside from having the unfortunate luck of being born to parents that decided to name him Richard Ramsey Rogers, he also had outstanding warrants out for him for several counts of manslaughter. He also had only just been placed on parole when he'd added another count to the list, and had to flee from the cops. However, he hadn't been able to seek protection from any of the organized crime syndicates because of his reputation, picked up after he'd quickly flipped on his last boss after he'd been arrested. He was viewed as untrustworthy, someone who'd turn on you in a heartbeat to save his own skin. Quite simply, nobody trusted him. And trust was important in that line of 'work'.
His current employer suffered from no such compunctions.
He'd made it quite clear what would happen if Rogers disobeyed, and after that demonstration...
Well, Rogers would never cross him. No matter what.
Even jail couldn't be as bad as... that.
Rogers was a short brown-haired man with pale, almost sickly looking skin. He had also used to have a number of facial piercings and chains hanging from his formerly loose clothing, but his current circumstances had made those... impractical, to say the least. He stood there for a moment, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He had a manila folder with a short stack of papers inside clutched in one hand, and even though the evening was cold - even the best heaters in the world couldn't entirely banish the chill in some parts of the base - he was sweating. No one liked having to go talk to the big boss, but about something like this...
The folder in his hand shook slightly.
After a moment, he closed the door behind him and moved to a position three paces behind the armchair. There he stood, not daring to move.
His employer did not acknowledge him, seemingly focused entirely on the news. The reporter was wrapping up her story on The Centre, the anchors finally moving on to something else - though he knew this story would be getting much more attention for some time to come.
"...-ove, Delaware, this is Stacia Vela."
"Thank you, Stacia. Well, Kurt, I have to say that's one 'Mister Parker' that I'm glad doesn't have a Get Out of Jail Free card."
"I'll sa-"
The man in the chair clicked off the television, dropping the level of light in the room even lower. Then, without turning, said, "Yes, Richard?"
Trick didn't correct him. The boss could call him whatever he wanted, really. He supposed he should feel flattered that his boss had decided to use his first name at all. "We've received some additional information that she thought you'd want to see immediately, sir." He probably hadn't needed to stress the word as much as he did, but he also didn't want the boss thinking interrupting him was his idea.
He still didn't turn around. "You've looked through it?"
"She had it faxed to us, sir." Meaning there really hadn't been much choice.
He sighed and rose, heading for his desk. "Show me," he said flatly as he sat down, flicking on the desk light.
Wincing at the sudden illumination, Trick laid the folder on the desk. "It's the last of the technical specifications we require, as well as a list of where we can find everything we need. And there was... one other thing she thought you'd be interested in."
"Who else knows about this?" He didn't open the folder, yet.
"I was the only one there when the fax came in, and you'd know better then I would how many people actually have a clue as to what we're really doing." He swallowed hard. "You're the only one who knows everything." Though he himself was beginning to think he could make a few guesses...
"Well..." Without so much as blinking, he reached into a desk drawer, pulled out a gun, and shot Trick in the head. "...I am now."
Not bothering to spare the body any attention as it hit the floor - though he did make a mental note to have the maintenance people stop by and collect it later, while they cleaned the carpet - he put the gun away and opened the folder.
As promised, the papers inside told him exactly where to find what he needed to finish his current project, as well as one which speculated as to exactly why Sekhmet might have arranged for Diamond's pardon, which he took great interest in. That information would come in useful, he was certain.
He moved on to the next paper, then froze.
Then, slowly, began to laugh.
Oh, this was perfect. This was too perfect. He had to admit, she'd certainly been right. He was definitely interested in that particular piece of information.
All the pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place. It would still take some time to arrange everything, especially if he didn't want certain government agents catching on before it was too late to stop him, but that was all right. He had plenty to do, and plenty of arrangements to make, to keep him busy.
And if The Centre hadn't been able to catch him, the United States government certainly wouldn't be able to. No matter whom they were currently employing.
He did hope Sekhmet and Jarod would appreciate the irony of the fact that their success in dismantling The Centre would lead to their ultimate destruction.
As he gazed down at the papers in front of him with malevolent amusement, he had to chuckle again.
"I've been away from my girls for far too long."
And so begins the long-awaited sequel to Pantheon! Hope everyone enjoys - and comments on! *lol* - this one as much, if not more so. ^_^
Next time - Three months later, Amy and Lucy are settling comfortably into their new house, and Lucy and Scud are still trying to adapt to their new jobs.
(Oh, yes, the coming attractions are back, too! ^_^)
Title: Prometheus Unbound
Author: That'd be me. *grins* Andrew, Obsidian, call me what you want. But only if it's nice. ;)
Rating: R (C'mon, it's a sequel to Pantheon. What did you expect? ;) )
Comments: At long last, it's finally here. ^_^ Hopefully you'll like this one as much as you did Pantheon, if not more so. Now, there is going to be a third fandom included this time around, but, as before, I'm not telling you what it is, yet. You'll find out soon enough, don't worry.
Legal Disclaimer: I do not own 'D.E.B.S.', as I am not Angela Robinson. I also don't own 'The Pretender' (which was created by Steven Long Mitchell and Craig W. Van Sickle). Nor do I own .
Prologue
An icy wind blew over the barren, lifeless landscape, howling above the compound.
It had been built a long time ago, with money carefully siphoned off from certain businesses and corporations, and constructed in such a remote, uninviting area of the world that it had remained undiscovered, waiting until a time when it was needed.
Waiting for now.
Most levels appeared utilitarian, even spartan, given more to function then form. There were no windows, even on the one floor that was actually above ground level.
His people didn't need such luxuries. The few that actually stayed there had more important things to worry about. His own living quarters, of course, were fully furnished. Given that he didn't dare show his face where they might see him, they had to be.
Or he hadn't dared, at least.
A winding network of underground ventillation shafts stretching all over the surrounding countryside made certain that any intake or exhaust vents were far enough away that they would remain unnoticed and unconnected with the base. Among them was a small shaft with a number of very quiet but very powerful fans meant to pull the smoke away from the soft fire that flickered inside the stone fireplace he'd had installed in his office area. The fire itself barely illuminated the oak shelves and leather books that lines the room. An oversized antique desk occupied one side of the office, the high-backed chair behind it turned to one side, empty. A number of 3-D pipes worked their way across the screen saver on the 20-inch plasma screen of the computer on his desk, next to which was an assortment of papers and the odd pen or two.
The flat-screen television on the wall opposite the desk cast an odd white and blue illumination that clashed with the yellow light from the fire, but he barely noticed. Deep in an overstuffed armchair, he sat staring at the screen intently.
Fifteen minutes earlier, the phone had rung and a somewhat familiar woman's voice had told him, "Turn on the news. I think you'll be very interested in the lead story," before hanging up.
As it turned out, she'd been right.
"-tinuing to unfold in the wake of the collapse of the multinational corporation known as The Centre. As some of our earlier viewers know, The Centre was a private corporation located in Blue Cove, Delaware. Its apparent function was to accept "contracts" or "clients" from various sources, including the military, and provide them with information. This information was obtained from "residents" of the Centre, children and adults with a variety of unusual talents, kept in an isolated environment to make them more productive."
His eyebrows rose at the sight of The Centre, which looked distinctly worse for wear. Windows had been blown out on every level of the Tower, which - for whatever reason - now had a giant hole in it. When the screen switched to a view of the inside, they rose even higher. It was clear a major battle had been fought there.
Fought, and lost.
"According to sources involved in the investigation, The Centre did initially do the beneficial work its public facade claimed, which resulted in the creation of four democratic countries, the Korean peace accords and other such altruistic ends. Later, however, it became more self-serving and destructive.
"The Chairman of The Centre, James Parker, was arrested on a variety of charges, including kidnapping, blackmail, embezzlement, conspiracy, and murder, and is currently facing life in prison with no chance of parole."
He'd chuckled at that, the first sound he'd made since the story had begun. He hoped Parker could appreciate the irony of the situation. He was sure that Jarod and the others like him could.
The screenshot they used showed an older man then he remembered, but that was only to be expected, he supposed.
It had, after all, been some time.
"So far, the D.E.B.S. have declined to comment on their surprising role in what officials are calling the largest coordinated simultaneous assault on a criminal network in history. Reports indicate that they were able to direct local and federal police, government agents, and even military forces from every country in which a Centre satellite office was located. As most of our viewers know, the D.E.B.S. typically deal more with so-called "super-villains", such as Lucy Diamond."
They began showing what little pictures or clips they had relating to Diamond, and he had to admit that she was something of a striking, dynamic individual. It was a pity he wasn't likely to be able to convince her to come work for him, but he knew from experience that someone who was used to running their own criminal empire would never accept a subservient position to anyone else. The best he could have hoped for was a partnership, and he suspected their goals were far too different for that to work.
The reported confirmed that when she continued speaking, but not in the way he'd been expecting.
"In an ironic twist, Diamond herself was supposedly actually involved in taking down The Centre. Authorities are being extremely vague about the details, but one of the D.E.B.S.' top agents, Amy Bradshaw, has gone on record saying, quote, 'This mission really couldn't have succeeded without Lucy. It's because of that, as well as several other things I can't talk about, that she and her people were offered pardons within the United States, among other countries.'"
His eyes widened as they showed footage of a tall blonde bustling through a crowd of reporters without slowing down once. Between the glimpse of her face, her stature, and the effortless grace with which she moved, he would have recognized her anywhere.
Well, well, well. Little Sekhmet, all grown up.
He let the reporter's voice fade into the background, his thoughts taking priority to what she had to say. He already knew everything she was telling America - or the world, even - about The Centre, after all, and hardly cared about the oh-so-tragic story of Jarod and his family. Unlike Parker, he'd never thought that Jarod was the 'key to the Centre's continued success' He was important, to be certain, but not the only important one.
And as recent events proved, he wasn't nearly as dangerous.
The door to the study opened slowly and Ricky "Trick" Rogers hesitantly moved a few steps inside. Aside from having the unfortunate luck of being born to parents that decided to name him Richard Ramsey Rogers, he also had outstanding warrants out for him for several counts of manslaughter. He also had only just been placed on parole when he'd added another count to the list, and had to flee from the cops. However, he hadn't been able to seek protection from any of the organized crime syndicates because of his reputation, picked up after he'd quickly flipped on his last boss after he'd been arrested. He was viewed as untrustworthy, someone who'd turn on you in a heartbeat to save his own skin. Quite simply, nobody trusted him. And trust was important in that line of 'work'.
His current employer suffered from no such compunctions.
He'd made it quite clear what would happen if Rogers disobeyed, and after that demonstration...
Well, Rogers would never cross him. No matter what.
Even jail couldn't be as bad as... that.
Rogers was a short brown-haired man with pale, almost sickly looking skin. He had also used to have a number of facial piercings and chains hanging from his formerly loose clothing, but his current circumstances had made those... impractical, to say the least. He stood there for a moment, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He had a manila folder with a short stack of papers inside clutched in one hand, and even though the evening was cold - even the best heaters in the world couldn't entirely banish the chill in some parts of the base - he was sweating. No one liked having to go talk to the big boss, but about something like this...
The folder in his hand shook slightly.
After a moment, he closed the door behind him and moved to a position three paces behind the armchair. There he stood, not daring to move.
His employer did not acknowledge him, seemingly focused entirely on the news. The reporter was wrapping up her story on The Centre, the anchors finally moving on to something else - though he knew this story would be getting much more attention for some time to come.
"...-ove, Delaware, this is Stacia Vela."
"Thank you, Stacia. Well, Kurt, I have to say that's one 'Mister Parker' that I'm glad doesn't have a Get Out of Jail Free card."
"I'll sa-"
The man in the chair clicked off the television, dropping the level of light in the room even lower. Then, without turning, said, "Yes, Richard?"
Trick didn't correct him. The boss could call him whatever he wanted, really. He supposed he should feel flattered that his boss had decided to use his first name at all. "We've received some additional information that she thought you'd want to see immediately, sir." He probably hadn't needed to stress the word as much as he did, but he also didn't want the boss thinking interrupting him was his idea.
He still didn't turn around. "You've looked through it?"
"She had it faxed to us, sir." Meaning there really hadn't been much choice.
He sighed and rose, heading for his desk. "Show me," he said flatly as he sat down, flicking on the desk light.
Wincing at the sudden illumination, Trick laid the folder on the desk. "It's the last of the technical specifications we require, as well as a list of where we can find everything we need. And there was... one other thing she thought you'd be interested in."
"Who else knows about this?" He didn't open the folder, yet.
"I was the only one there when the fax came in, and you'd know better then I would how many people actually have a clue as to what we're really doing." He swallowed hard. "You're the only one who knows everything." Though he himself was beginning to think he could make a few guesses...
"Well..." Without so much as blinking, he reached into a desk drawer, pulled out a gun, and shot Trick in the head. "...I am now."
Not bothering to spare the body any attention as it hit the floor - though he did make a mental note to have the maintenance people stop by and collect it later, while they cleaned the carpet - he put the gun away and opened the folder.
As promised, the papers inside told him exactly where to find what he needed to finish his current project, as well as one which speculated as to exactly why Sekhmet might have arranged for Diamond's pardon, which he took great interest in. That information would come in useful, he was certain.
He moved on to the next paper, then froze.
Then, slowly, began to laugh.
Oh, this was perfect. This was too perfect. He had to admit, she'd certainly been right. He was definitely interested in that particular piece of information.
All the pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place. It would still take some time to arrange everything, especially if he didn't want certain government agents catching on before it was too late to stop him, but that was all right. He had plenty to do, and plenty of arrangements to make, to keep him busy.
And if The Centre hadn't been able to catch him, the United States government certainly wouldn't be able to. No matter whom they were currently employing.
He did hope Sekhmet and Jarod would appreciate the irony of the fact that their success in dismantling The Centre would lead to their ultimate destruction.
As he gazed down at the papers in front of him with malevolent amusement, he had to chuckle again.
"I've been away from my girls for far too long."
And so begins the long-awaited sequel to Pantheon! Hope everyone enjoys - and comments on! *lol* - this one as much, if not more so. ^_^
Next time - Three months later, Amy and Lucy are settling comfortably into their new house, and Lucy and Scud are still trying to adapt to their new jobs.
(Oh, yes, the coming attractions are back, too! ^_^)