Invasion: Book One of the Secret World Chronicle by Mercedes Lackey

Author:Mercedes Lackey
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Military, Fiction, Science Fiction, Adventure, General
ISBN: 9781439134191
Publisher: Baen Books
Published: 2011-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Headhunters

Dennis Lee & Mercedes Lackey

In a lone cell deep within the shattered Echo headquarters in Atlanta, Red Djinni was coping with his latest crisis. He sat, motionless, and stared at a list of names clutched tightly in his hand. Across from him a hulking figure leaned against the cell wall, watching, his arms crossed.

If only he would twitch a little, would reveal anything. In the short time he had known him, Red had conceded that this man, this Bulwark, was inscrutable. This worried Red, who had made a career out of reading people.

Red went through the list of names again. It wasn’t a very long list. Even now, desperate for bodies to fill the void left by the invasion, Echo was only willing to go so far in lowering their standards for meta-powered personnel. Each name had a criminal record of some sort, but mostly misdemeanors and nonviolent felonies. During Red’s short career in the metahuman underground, he had encountered many such individuals. While he was surprised by how many he had burned his bridges with, he was amazed to be presented with a near complete listing of their names. Bulwark couldn’t have concocted this list from Red’s records. If he had, Echo would have had enough to put Red away for the duration. If they knew all the details of Red’s life as a mercenary and thief, they wouldn’t have done this. They wouldn’t have been able to trust him.

The list, as far as Red could see, was a compilation of people that he had completely screwed over. Criminals, all of them, and he was now charged with finding them, approaching them, and convincing them to be law-abiding supercops. He was convinced. There was a God—a God who watched, pulled his little strings, and laughed at his puppets with a keen sense of humor.

At long last, Red looked up. His face, though cloaked by his signature scarf, couldn’t hide his resignation. He squinted up at Bulwark in disbelief.

“You don’t approve?” Bulwark rumbled.

“You have got to be kidding,” Red snorted. “How did you come up with this lot?”

“From what was left of our data banks. These were the names flagged with potential for rehabilitation.”

Red pointed at one name. “This guy’s an arsonist!”

“He picked his targets carefully,” Bulwark countered. “He’s never actually harmed anyone. His psych profile suggests therapy may help.”

“All right then—” Red tapped three more names. “Kleptomaniac; extreme, bipolar, wacky fun time; and this one has spastic panic attacks at the sight of her own super slobber.”

“We don’t discriminate on account of mental disorders. We can help these people just as much as they can help us.”

“You say that now. I wonder if you would feel the same after being on the receiving end of anxiety-induced hundred-mile-an-hour projectile vomit.”

“I imagine I would,” Bulwark replied. “I’ll just stand behind you.”

Red paused, and then chuckled. “Funny. When did you develop a sense of humor?”

Bulwark shrugged. “I noticed you quell your opponent’s arguments with levity. I surmised the same tactics might work on you.

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