Free Meta Zero One by Martin J Moss Page A
Authors: Martin J Moss
and she felt out of her depth, she was unable to switch off so easily.
When it had become clear than the Guardian was indeed well and truly dead, that there was to be no miraculous recovery, that he wasn't going to stand up any second, that it had not been a joke, she had stood, smoothed out her skirt and called the police.
The officer who was first on the scene, Officer Murdoch had been surprisingly on the ball, despite his appalling body odour. He had carefully listened to her story, taken copious notes and then used her phone to call in the incident to his superiors.
She noticed that he had not used the Guardian's name at any time, but had referred to the incident as a code 32 alpha.
Whatever that meant it'd had the desired effect.
Within 15 minutes she was being bundled out of her office into the back of a dark blue 4x4 Hummer with blacked out windows, and, she noticed, no door handles on the inside. Next she was told politely, but firmly to stay there, not to move.
Within 30 minutes she was sitting in a small, featureless office, having been driven to an unknown destination, walked across a featureless underground car park and taken down endless, unidentifiable corridors.
She had no idea where she was, which, she had to admit unnerved her somewhat.
The men who taken her had not spoken a word, other than through short barked commands, "sit here," "stand there." They all had the same buzz cut hair, grim faces and all wore the same cheap, off the shelf grey suits.
They were polite, but firm, and while Margaret do not feel under any direct threat the overall effect left her feeling lost and uneasy.
In the end, after what seemed like hours of questioning, she had been released. This was done in the same unimpressive way that she had been taken.
The men had made it abundantly clear to her that she was not to talk to anyone about what had happened. That if she was asked she could say that a client had killed themselves but nothing more.
They had made it clear that she would be watched from now on and that the consequences of talking to anyone would be rapid and severe.
Margaret understood, and to be honest she agreed with them. The death of the Guardian, and what had prompted it was so profoundly shocking that she herself wanted to keep it quiet.
The truth would rock the foundations of his millions of admiring fans across the world.
Instead, they told her that the story would be put out that he had left earth to travel the universe. That he had gone away to deal with some distant, vague threat, and when he didn't return, well by then some new hero would be stealing the headlines.
He would not be forgotten, but it was better to think that he had abandoned humanity, rather than killed himself because he hated it.
As far as Margaret was concerned, the less said about it all the better.
So she had returned to work, her office had been cleaned in her absence and not a trace of the man who had died there remained.
She had found it difficult at first, but after moving the furniture around to provide a physical break from the event, she had started to feel slightly better.
She had started to get her mind back on track.
It was only at her last appointment, 4.30 pm that afternoon, that she realised that word of her dealings with The Guardian must have leaked out somehow. Nothing was in the papers, but still it was too much of a coincidence to believe she could get two meta powered clients in a single week.
The woman who had walked into her office had booked the session under the name Gwen Stevie. Margaret had recognised her as soon as she opened the door and saw the long black hair, the piercing eyes, and the fantastic chest of the Warrior Queen sitting in her reception.
The Warrior Queen, one of the major powered hero's, was fast, strong highly aggressive and simply stunning to look
When it had become clear than the Guardian was indeed well and truly dead, that there was to be no miraculous recovery, that he wasn't going to stand up any second, that it had not been a joke, she had stood, smoothed out her skirt and called the police.
The officer who was first on the scene, Officer Murdoch had been surprisingly on the ball, despite his appalling body odour. He had carefully listened to her story, taken copious notes and then used her phone to call in the incident to his superiors.
She noticed that he had not used the Guardian's name at any time, but had referred to the incident as a code 32 alpha.
Whatever that meant it'd had the desired effect.
Within 15 minutes she was being bundled out of her office into the back of a dark blue 4x4 Hummer with blacked out windows, and, she noticed, no door handles on the inside. Next she was told politely, but firmly to stay there, not to move.
Within 30 minutes she was sitting in a small, featureless office, having been driven to an unknown destination, walked across a featureless underground car park and taken down endless, unidentifiable corridors.
She had no idea where she was, which, she had to admit unnerved her somewhat.
The men who taken her had not spoken a word, other than through short barked commands, "sit here," "stand there." They all had the same buzz cut hair, grim faces and all wore the same cheap, off the shelf grey suits.
They were polite, but firm, and while Margaret do not feel under any direct threat the overall effect left her feeling lost and uneasy.
In the end, after what seemed like hours of questioning, she had been released. This was done in the same unimpressive way that she had been taken.
The men had made it abundantly clear to her that she was not to talk to anyone about what had happened. That if she was asked she could say that a client had killed themselves but nothing more.
They had made it clear that she would be watched from now on and that the consequences of talking to anyone would be rapid and severe.
Margaret understood, and to be honest she agreed with them. The death of the Guardian, and what had prompted it was so profoundly shocking that she herself wanted to keep it quiet.
The truth would rock the foundations of his millions of admiring fans across the world.
Instead, they told her that the story would be put out that he had left earth to travel the universe. That he had gone away to deal with some distant, vague threat, and when he didn't return, well by then some new hero would be stealing the headlines.
He would not be forgotten, but it was better to think that he had abandoned humanity, rather than killed himself because he hated it.
As far as Margaret was concerned, the less said about it all the better.
So she had returned to work, her office had been cleaned in her absence and not a trace of the man who had died there remained.
She had found it difficult at first, but after moving the furniture around to provide a physical break from the event, she had started to feel slightly better.
She had started to get her mind back on track.
It was only at her last appointment, 4.30 pm that afternoon, that she realised that word of her dealings with The Guardian must have leaked out somehow. Nothing was in the papers, but still it was too much of a coincidence to believe she could get two meta powered clients in a single week.
The woman who had walked into her office had booked the session under the name Gwen Stevie. Margaret had recognised her as soon as she opened the door and saw the long black hair, the piercing eyes, and the fantastic chest of the Warrior Queen sitting in her reception.
The Warrior Queen, one of the major powered hero's, was fast, strong highly aggressive and simply stunning to look
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