The Bossa Nova Mall, one of the last shopping malls left in the Southern Hemisphere dedicated to the ever-shrinking middle class, is bustling this Sunday afternoon, although few patrons are out shopping. Instead, the wealthy and the poor alike have gathered to watch the national team playing in a CONMEBOL futbol match. The poor come to the mall simply because they cannot afford televisions in the first place, let alone the subscription cost to licensced sports content. The wealthy were driven to these dire viewing straights thanks to a licensing dispute between FIFA, the Brazillian government, and a half-dozen media companies.
In the food court, it is standing room only near the banks of high-mounted screens set behind a protective metal grate. Almost all eyes are on the hotshot hero for the national team as he outmanuevers a defender on the pitch and lobs a shot on goal. The crowd collectively holds it’s breath, but the goalie from Chile deflects the ball eliciting a disappointed groans. The crowd’s sounds mixes with with the din of people having dozens of conversations at once, the sounds of the food court employee’s making orders, and the one TV set to a news broadcast about a jewel heist in Australia.
Those who aren’t watching the game closely, are still drawn to the match as they slurp on soft drinks and eat greasy, highly-processed fast food made with soy and meat “analogs” of dubious origins from worn plastic chairs and tables scarred by a hundred trays and just as many teenagers carving initials into them with small knives. Armed security officers pass through, also watching the match more than the customers. A genuine moment of national unity happening in a dying mall where people from all walks of life have gathered.
Salvo had to settle for a standing table as the food court was so crowded .Setting his tray down. He opened the can of Guaraná Antarctica soda then turned his attention to the triple X-bacon burger and fried Plantains, purchased at Giraffas. Maybe not the best meal but he was currently very low on cash and fast food was all he could afford.
His last job, muscle for some egg-heads looking for reported ‘Fish-Men’ in the Amazon. Oh they had found the creatures all right. Named them Piranha men. Unfortuanately the discovery acted much like their namesake. Eating several members of the expedition. Salvo was able to dissuade the creatures by blowing up an abandoned, well mostly abandoned logging site. Destroying the monsters and attracting the attention of the Authorities. Salvo slipped away when questions of who set off the explosions. While the Scientists argued with the Government types over breaking the story of the creatures. Naturally some men in black types showed up and squashed all the information. Of course all this happened before Salvo was paid.
He used most of the rest of his money to move his gear and stay in the shadows. He is here at the Mall to make contact with someone who can help him get home.
A dark-haired, attractive woman stood between a couple of potted plants near the food court. She wore jeans, military style boots, a T-shirt, photographer's vest, light windbreaker, and a black cap with the SF logo of the San Francisco Giant's baseball team. She had a pistol in a holster on her right hip, a long rifle in a case over her shoulder and a backpack. A camera hung around her neck, resting on her chest. She sipped a drink and kept an eye on the crowd through dark glasses.
She had come to Rio after receiving a letter from her grandmother, mentioning a string prominent politicians falling dead. A little research piqued her interest, being a supernatural investigator. Her grandmother said the deaths reminded her of sorcerers in Brazilian folklore who could curse people with just an intense concentration and some kind of supernatural elixir.
When Faith arrived in Rio, she quickly discovered a lead, a homeless person questioned by police in two different incidents where people just collapsed while walking nearby. Autopsies could not reveal a cause of death. Most of the victims were in good health.
She had finally located the homeless person and was trailing him. When he wandered into the mall and gravitated toward the food court, she followed and was now keeping an eye on him from a distance.
Stringer had been listening to the game on his con but when he saw the crowd in the food court he wandered over to watch the game. Like his countrymen, the young man is hyped up and excited for the game. Unlike the others, he's just in the mall to shop, not for biz. Unfortunately, given the situation in the city that means he is strapped and even his casual Adidas track suit is bullet resistant.
Hibo quietly stood in line, patiently waiting his turn for one of the vendors. He had been watching the crowd more than the game, his dark sunglasses hiding his eyes as they scanned the area for psionic activity. He hadn't seen much, but the longer the game went on, the more people came and went. He had no real leads, but the amount of people around in one place was his best chance at finding something. At this point, he'd settle for anything. His funds were dwindling, and while he knew he shouldn't, the aromas sifting through the air had become too much to ignore any longer. He could have grabbed a protein bar or some jerky from his pack, but with the game on and the cheers from those gathered, he might as well indulge he thought. Never know where the next meal will be after all.
He squeezed his arm into body once again, confirming the Beretta was still secure in the concealed holster under his arm.
Glancing around the area. Salvo takes note of the armed Security Guards as well as several other patrons also packing weapons.
He is wearing a faded green fatigue jacket and pants along with brown combat boots. There are no identifying patches on the clothing.
Although seeing no overt threats, training and discipline take over. Salvo shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Allowing him to subtly check the various weapons secreted on his person.
The Colt Krait 10mm in the shoulder holster, the SITES 9mm in the right ankle holster, Combat Knife in Left boot, and Metal baton up his right sleeve.
Standard gear for a casual day out.
The crowd is on edge as the game goes into extra time tied at nil. Brazil has managed to retain possession for the last few minutes, but Chile's defense has kept them from setting up an attack, until finally the young hero fakes his man out and gets a chance to bring the ball down field.
The crowd collectively holds its breath, and all eyes are glued to the screen. He passes to a flanker as he tries to put himself in position to…receive the pass back from the winger! He shoots! The keeper can't get to it in time and the ball slides into the top corner of the net!
The crowd goes crazy! A rare moment of national unity regardless of class or race breaks out in the food court. One could imagine the entire country is celebrating!
But not everyone. Moments before the kick, you feel a chill surge through your body. The hairs on the back of your neck stand straight up and goose pimples form on your arms. A voice, not your own, harshly echoes in your mind, ”Dive!”
It seems impossible to resist the suggestion, and so you hit the floor a split second before an unimaginably loud bang erupts from behind the global burger chain near the entrance to the mall. A bright light, intense heat, and forceful pressure wave throws chairs, tables, and people through the air. A fireball erupts and gas lines are ruptured, starting small fires everywhere. Remaining conscious, even after diving for cover, becomes nearly impossible.
”He wont be there, will he?” asks one man.
”Who?” The second responds.
”Pele. Who do you think? Klaus. Will he be there?
”I hope not. Klaus scares me. Hey, this one woke up, take care of it!”
One climbs into the back and sticks a needle into your arm, sending you back into the darkness.
A man speaks and you try to look around from the gurney. A motley assortment of teenagers and young adults points to you. One approaches and cocks back a fist but one of the paramedics wags his finger at the young man and hands him a syringe filled with a milky substance. A needle prick to the arm and a few seconds later finds you swallowed back up into darkness.
A man speaks and you try to look around from the gurney. A motley assortment of teenagers and young adults points to you.
”Just babysit them for a week. Keep them alive, but other than that it doesn't matter. Complete your assignment and you will receive the other half of your payment at Joao Carlo's place one hour after pickup.”
One approaches and cocks back a fist but one of the paramedics wags his finger at the young man and hands him a syringe filled with a milky substance. ”Use these to keep them easy to manage.”
A needle prick to the arm and a few seconds later finds you swallowed back up into darkness.
You come to some time later. The sound of muffled music with heavy bass can be heard over the steady pounding of rain on a metal roof. The air smells musty and you can feel the leather restraints on your arms and legs. You taste a strange metallic tang. Strapped to a gurney you can only see buzzing neon lights high above you, dangling from a corrugated roof above. One keeps winking off then slowly comes back up to peak, only to wink off again.
Though not his game, Salvo finds himself caught up in the shared excitement of the moment.
He suddenly gets ‘that’ feeling that something bad is going to happen.
When he gets the “Dive” command, he obeys immediately, (like a good soldier).
His first thought is, this reminds me of that time he was caught in a mortar attack in Croatia, not fun then not fun now.
Trying to sit up is his second thought, the pain and severe disorientation tell him that action is not going to happen. He does manage to turn his head.
Seeing the actions of the men in gas masks, he tries to move his hand to the Colt in the shoulder holster. This too is beyond him at the moment. There is a bright sparkly light then the world goes dark.
Waking again, it takes a second to realize he is in a moving vehicle. And he is restrained. He listens as intently as possible in his woozy condition to their conversation. He must have made a sound as one of them acts to render him unconscious.
Swimming back to consciousness again Salvo immediately regrets this due to his throbbing head. It is definitely worse than the hangover from his last bender. Listening again to the conversation and trying to commit the names to memory. Taking notice of the man approaching him with a raised fist, he manages to wince slightly. Then feels the prick of the needle and blackness overtake him once more.
Coming around once more and realizing he is strapped to down. Looking about as best as he can.
If he sees no guards, he will tense his muscles and test the restraints.
Faith wakes and remains motionless, observing what she can, thinking back and remembering recent events. She locked eyes with Emanuel Machado, the man she was tailing to see if he led her to any clues about the recent cases of sudden-death-in-healthy-politicians syndrome. He seemed to drop dead as she watched. Then the explosion. She was shielded from the worst of the blast, but it still knocked her down and out.
Paramedics checking people with some kind of crystal, killing those who did not pass some kind of arcane test. She survived so she must have passed. She momentarily tries to recall the features of the cop who shot one of the injured who did not pass the test. Then she remembers they were wearing gas masks. She tries instead to remember at least the uniform, patches, etc. She wants to see that guy in jail if she can provide a good description.
She also recalls an ambulance ride, something about a scary dude name Klaus. She also fixes the faces of the paramedics in her memory and tries to recall any other identifying information about the EMTs or the ambulance.
Another snippet of a memory tells her someone had put some snot-nosed teenagers in charge of her with instructions to keep her alive for a week. Someone named Joao Carlo would pay them.
She rehearses these memories for a few minutes, to preserve them in her long term memory.
She looks around with her eyes, careful not to move her head unless she can tell if she is being observed. She does not want another shot. She listens for footsteps, music, conversation. Once she has some sense of her surroundings, if she believes she is not being closely watched, she tests her restraints, determining how tight they are and where.
Then she slowly tries to shift her arms to get one free.
Stringer groans at the terrible pain in his head and closes his eyes again. There had been an explosion? He was on a gurney. Was this a hospital? He opens his eyes and looks around again. Corrugated roof? Probably not a hospital.
The young man looks down to see if he can reach the bindings holding him to the bed.
Hibo was trying his best to remain patient. He was hungry, but he couldn't ignore the charged atmosphere of unity brought out by the televised match. Before he realized it, he was shouting and clapping as the youth scored. It was quite the move! He had to admire his abilities. Surely this was a sign of good things to come.
Hibo hit the ground in an instant, his training and instincts taking over before he had to time think. The next thing he knew, an alarm clock was waking him up. His hand tried to move to wipe away the morning sleep still covering his eyes, but he found it oddly pinned beneath him. He tried to roll over but the effort seemed more than he was capable of at the moment. He quietly wondered how much he had to drink after the game. Instead he was able to force his eyes open with some effort and that's when everything came flooding back. The game, the explosion, and realizing that the continued ringing was in his head did little to comfort him. This was made worse as clothed officers were putting two rounds into those who did not appease their crystal, and were coming his way.
In his disoriented state, all Hibo could think of was "Pele? Really? This might actually be worth it." That was until the man mentioned a "Klaus". "Who the hell is Klaus?" echoed in his mind until the man pumped darkness returned.
When his eyes opened again, he groaned. The sound of music did not help to alleviate the throbbing in his head. Nor did the flashing light overhead. "Concussion?" he wondered. He closed his eyes as he tried to sit up, but the the restraints kept him in place. He groaned again and closed his eyes as he squeezed his arm to his body, trying to feel his firearm strapped in its holster.
As the pain and medicated haze clear, things start to come into sharper focus. A total of six gurneys, each with a person strapped into them, sit scattered around a cavernous building with concrete floors. In addition to to Faith, Hibo, Salvo, and Stringer are the homeless man Faith was searching for and a small girl. She remains out cold and looks to be no older than ten.
Machado, it turns out, is alive. He stares in Faith's direction with unfocused eyes. His lips move, but no actual words are spoken. As best as she can reason, the glowing crystal was some sort of detection device. It did bear a slight resemblance to a new age pendulum used for divination.
Salvo and Faith both notice a teenaged guard sitting in a chair by the door. He appears to be asleep from Faith's angle, but Salvo sees a needle hanging from the guards arm, the sort used on the strapped-in victims. The boy's skin seems gray and his glossy eyes stare at nothing.
Salvo feels confident he is quite dead and flexes, but can't get leverage to burst the leather or buckles. Stringer, on the other hand, manages to wiggle his fingers around well enough to pop open one of his straps.
There is a closed, roll-up steel door to the east and a lit office to the south. The music appears to be coming from that direction. Other than clothes, no one currently has any of their other possessions.
Looking around Salvo takes note of the other members of the gurney club. Seeing one man manage to slip his hand free of the restraints.
”Go going. Don’t worry about the guard. I’m pretty sure he’s dead.’”
Taking a deep breath he tenses his muscles and begins to pull at the bindings.
Salvo will take 20 on the check. Since he has plenty of time. His Str. mod is +3. The break DC of Rope is 23. I figure the leather restraints should be comparable. So he should be able to get loose. Going to continue the post assuming he gets free.
With a grunt he manages to break the fasteners holding the leather straps to the gurney. Allowing him to sit up. He begins to unbuckle the cuffs.
”Say, does anyone else remember that guy with the glowing crystal back at the Mall? I know it was weird, but I’ve seen some really strange things before. I think it might be an empathic or psionic talisman of some sort. Anyone have any info?
Once the buckles are removed he begins to look about the room for anything that might make a good weapon. Other than the obvious blunt objects.
”Oh by the way, I’m Salvo.”
"Ugh, my head" Hibo muttered before looking around.
"Crystal? I remember seeing something like that. I don't know if it was psionic in nature, but I believe I could determine it's inherit nature if I could study it further."
Hibo struggled against his restraints briefly before looking around again. "I am Hibo, and I could use a little help here."
Faith continues working on wriggling free of the restraints. When she sees others doing the same, she raises her head to let others know she is conscious. If anyone gets free, she'll whisper, "Me next."
Faith carefully extracts her hand from one of the straps as Salvo and Stringer finish extricating themselves. As she goes to reach for another strap the muffled music abruptly stops.
"Sounds like the game of musical gurneys is about to end. If we can get free, I think all we're facing are some strung-out teenagers."
One hand free, Faith reaches for the remaining strap release buckles.
Stringer frowns. "Why did the music stop? Can they see us?" He slides off the gurney and looks around for cameras or wires.
Moving over to Hibo, Salvo begins to remove the man’s restraints.
Upon hearing the music stop.
”Well, that’s probably not good.”
After releasing one of Hibo’s hands.
”Finish freeing yourselves. I’m going to greet whoever comes in.
Salvo then heads over to the door.
Standing to one side he prepares to engage anyone entering.
Salvo and everyone tense up, waiting for company to arrive. For an agonizing time only the sound of rain drumming on the roof fills the air. The music resumes
Once freed, Faith whispers, "I'm Faith. I think we've been collected because we share some occult ability that is detectible with a some kind of crystal on a pendulum. Let's figure out who's in charge here and beat some answers out of them. But I saw our collectors kill one victim who tested negative, so we're dealing with ruthless bastards. Be careful."
She looks around the room hoping for something that might serve as an improvised weapon or shield.
While waiting to strike anyone entering the room Salvo puts his ear against the wall and listens. He also gives the dead ‘guard’ the once over.
When the music restarts a minute later, he looks at the others and shrugs.
Hibo quietly nodded his thanks before Salvo turned his attention back to the door. His free hand moved to the restraint still keeping his other arm immobilized and worked it loose. He then moved towards those on his legs. As soon as he was free, he picked up the nearest object he felt comfortable throwing and moved to take position behind his gurney.
Faith takes a moment to check on the guy she had been following to see if he is alive. If there are any other unconscious gurney folks, she makes a mental note of what they look like before leaving to locate the minders.
"I was following this guy. He's a suspect in some kind of paranormal assassinations."
While he looks for electronics of any kind to mess with, Stringer picks up a handy stick to use as a club.
Faith gets close enough to examine her target. Machado's weathered face is frozen in terror. His eyes gaze through her, unfocused. He whispers a prayer, the "Hail Mary", over and over. The other victim, a young girl, is breathing ahallowly but totally unresponsive. Her clothing is worn and out of style, but not in the disrepair of the unhoused man Faith was tracking.
Stringer can see that most of the original internal wiring is gone, no doubt stripped by scavengers trying to get the copper. He can see a single extension cord running into the building through a broken window. It snakes along the floor where it disappears under the office door from which the music is coming.
Faith picks up something she can use as a club. She goes to the window to see if there is some broken glass she can use as a weapon. If there is an intact pane, but no other broken glass, she waits for the music to hit a loud cord and breaks the glass to get a shard.
Then she follows the extension cord to the office door.
Once armed with a suitable cudgel Salvo searches the dead ‘Guard'. Then turns to the others.
”I’m not sure what’s going on here, it does not make sense. I mean whoever hit the mall was well organized and well funded. Then why did they leave us to be guarded by street kids. Just doesn't add up.”
Pausing to make sure everyone is armed in some fashion.
”If you’re ready? I’ll get the door.”
Other than giving them a second glance to make sure they weren't going to jump on his back, the young man in the track suit didn't pay any attention to the ragged man or young girl. He nods at the apparently dead guard. "What killed him? Overdose?"
"Probably an underdose of brains," Faith whispers and stands to one side of the office door behind which the music is playing.
Salvo opens the door, once satisfied the others are armed and ready for what may be waiting behind it. A long worktable sits against the far wall with fast food wrappers strewn across it. A rat pokes around the garbage looking for food and scurries away as the door is opened. Opposite the long table is a wooden picnic table. The personal effects of the kidnap victims are strewn across it.
The extension cord runs to the picnic table where there is a small power strip. It's supplying electricity to a portable speaker encased with wood veneer in the "retrotek" style of a few years ago. The speaker is connected to a clamshell style flip phone. The type sold at cheap bodegas as burner phones. The music pauses again and the phone buzzes on the table.
Faith scans the table for her Glock. She grabs it and then looks at the phone to see if it identifies the caller.
Heading straight for his gear, and starting to stow it about his person. When he gives the buzzing phone a glance.
”Whoever has the best Portuguese accent should answer that,” Nodding to the phone. ”Mine is too Chicago.”
"I can manage, but they'll be expecting a guy to answer." Faith is ready to pick-up.
Stringer shakes his head as he arranges his stolen stuff back under his clothes. He doesn't even look in the direction of the phone. "I'm not answering s--t. We should just get the f--- out of here."
Before anyone can attempt to answer the ringing ends. Faith sees the caller ID shows the incoming phone number only, with no other information about the caller. The phone also indicates a dozen missed calls from that same number, all within the last half hour. The other thing that becomes immediately obvious is the time and date. It has been more than a day since the kidnapping happened.
information on it. No saved numbers in the contact list, no third-party apps. There is, however, an SD card that has the music loaded onto it. There is also a photograph saved on the card. The pic was created the day before the bombing.
Faith checks the phone, reads the number aloud to help herself and others remember it, and pockets the phone, as she proceeds to the table to get her other gear.
"Someone's been calling this number a lot lately, with no answer. We should expect company soon. Let's clear out and then we can try to figure out what's going on."
Glancing at Stringer first then to the others.
”Aren’t you interested in finding out who did this to us? I for one am. I intend to impress upon them, just what an astoundingly bad idea this was. Mainly by inserting high velocity copper jacketed lead into them repeatedly.”
Holding up his pistol for emphasis.
”Also I have found that dealing summarily with situations like this. Helps to foster a reputation of one not to be F’d with.”
”But you are probably right” Looking to Faith.”Company is likely coming. Although only two days have passed.” Nodding to the date displayed on the phone.
”Say does anyone else remember something about a guy named Klause? I also have vague memories of something about holding us for a week. And about these guys.” Looking at the dead guard.”Were supposed to get paid at Joao Carlo’s place. Not much but a few clues are better than none.
"Oh, I intend to find out who's behind this, what they want with us, and get some kind of revenge. But let's take them by surprise, not the other way around." She turns off the ringer on the burner phone and does the same with her phone when she finds it on the table. Then she checks her location with GPS. "I heard those names too," she adds when Salvo mentions them.
Once she's got her gear, which includes a rifle, stun gun, knife, sap, pepper spray, and an armored vest, plus a backpack crammed with various useful gear, she pulls a flashlight and a compass from the pack and takes a moment see if any of the gear on the table not claimed by the others sheds any light on the identity of the two unresponsives. "Hate to leave them here, but unless we can snag a vehicle, they'll have to wait."
Stringer looks back at Salvo and shakes his head. "You're new here, huh? Getting kidnapped is part of the Rio experience. We're just lucky these guys sucked at it." He gestures at the once-ringing phone. "Mind if I take that? I can give it to security if my dad's company decides they want to," he nods at Salvo "impress upon them what a bad idea this was."
"For me, though, all I want to do is get out of here and get home."
Once he gets the phone he checks it, more out of habit than anything else, and looks at the picture.
Faith can see that everyone is in an old urban area still in Rio, near the harbor, once she gets her hands on her own phone.
Stringer brings up the picture from the disposable phone. It shows a tall and fit caucasian man with sandy-blonde hair that is going gray at the temples wearing a smart gray suit. He's clean-shaven and his hair is perfectly combed. He appears to be talking to a shorter, balding man with a dark mustache wearing a simple white collared shirt. Given how grainy the photo is, Stringer would guess it was taken at quite some distance.
Thin bands of light penetrate broken and boarded up windows and sweep across the warehouse, accompanied by the sounds of tires rolling over gravel. The lights stop at the roll-up door, and a few seconds later car doors slamming shut can be heard.
Stringer lowers his voice after hearing the car doors. He turns the burner phone to show the others the picture. "Anybody know this guy?"
Faith flips the safety off as she draws her Glock. She hides behind something with a view of the door from the parking outside and waits.
After a quick tactical assessment of the terrain.
Looking for a location with optimal cover combined with fields of fire.
Salvo moves to a location on the left.
”Faith, cover the right flank, I’ve got left. Everyone else, grab some cover and watch the center.”
Once in place. He chambers a round in the pistol and takes aim.
Salvo will open fire. Target priority: Most heavily armed or closest if all same.
Salvo will say.
”Don’t move. You are being targeted by several expert shots. Let us all behave and talk a bit.
Faith pushes an empty gurney next to the empty cargo container, locking the wheels to keep it steady. She plans to step on the gurney to give her a step up to getting up to the top of the cargo container.
Stringer puts away the phone and ducks behind the crates to the right of the gurneys, pulling out his Glock as he takes cover.