# Vigilance Storyhour: The New Coalition



## Vigilance (Nov 8, 2002)

Jeremy waited impatiently as his driver opened the side door of the van and lowered him down on the chair lift.  "About bloody time Marcus" he growled at the huge bald man.  Marcus just smiled at him, impassive as always.  The idea that *he* of all people would have to be driven anywhere by anyone.  It was just too much for Jeremy.  He was one of greatest Formula One drivers the world had ever seen.  And then that drunk, driving with his lights out...

Out of the van at last, Jeremy shivered in the cool night air and adjusted the blanket over the stumps of his legs and looked dubiously at the abandoned warehouse.  "He told us to meet him here?  Are you sure you're reading that damn map right.  This is Coffin's Corner for Christ's sake.  Why I even trust you with simple tasks anymore is beyond me."

Marcus just watched him vent until he wound down.  Jeremy hated that about the huge bald driver too.  He was as impossible to move as a block of granite, physically or emotionally.  Finally Marcus said, "This is the place Sir.  The Senator said his aide would meet us here.  Well, inside at any rate."  Marcus smiled.  He was always smiling at those stupid little dry turns of phrase of his.

"Well why don't we go inside then?  Want me to get so cold they cut my fingers off too?"

Marcus just nodded impassively.  "Of course sir.  Let's get you inside and meet with the Senator's aide then." 

Marcus had to carry the chair up the steps.  Disgusting.  He made it look so easy too.  Almost like he was happy to help.  "Haven't these people ever heard of the Disability Act? Of a ****ing ramp?"

"Sorry Jeremy Sir."

Inside the door at last, Jeremy let his eyes adjust to the darkness.  He noticed that Marcus had opened his jacket for easy access to the Glock in his shoulder holster.  From out of the shadows stepped a young woman in dark blue pantsuit.  "Sorry about the lack of a ramp Mr. Stradling.  Coffin's Corner isn't known for it's political correctness."

"Just tell me why I'm here."

The woman almost smiled.  She might even have been pretty if she smiled.  But she didn't smile, just inclined her head inquisitively.  "Have you heard about the murders? The Countdown Killer?"

Jeremy snorted.  "Sure.  Some idiot who thinks the world is going to end at midnight two thousand.  Killing every hour on the hour."

The woman nodded.  "Essentially correct. Except there's more than one of them.  And many of them are... gifted.  The Senator has asked some people to help.  And he wants you to work with them.  To provide... reliable, secure transportation."

Jeremy scowled.  He hated pity.  And the Senator was one of those people who always had to fix everything.  "Well, unless he can give me my legs back, I'm not going to be the one doing the driving.  And Marcus is a lousy driver."

The woman actually did manage a smile this time.  "Really.  I heard that mister Warrick was in Excalibur, and that they trained their people rather well.  At any rate, your ability to provide transportation is why we are here Mr. Stradling.  I couldn't show you this in midtown."

The woman flicked a switch, and light flooded the old warehouse.  In the center, under a spotlight, was a sleek black car like something out of a fifty's car nut's wet dream.  Jeremy let out a quiet whistle and moved over to the vehicle.  Inside, he saw the panel beside the wheel, a touchscreen, with small panels marked "Accelerate.  Slow.  Brake. Emergency Stop."

Jeremy listened as the woman talked.  "You will not need legs to drive this Mr Stradling.  And it's ability to change plates, and appear as any sort of wheeled vehicle will be most handy as we move forward."

Jeremy looked back at her over his shoulder, "We?".

The woman nodded, and her eyes were cold, like icewater.  "Yes Mr. Stradling.  My gift, my curse, is to know the future.  I will help you and the others anticipate where the victims will be, and you will make sure we are there when the Apocalypse Cult strikes.  The Senator can't help us openly, but he will help us.  The police here are corrupt.  And worse, one of them, we don't know who yet, are involved.  We must stop them, there is no one else.  We will be the New Coalition."


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## JAlfredPrufrock (Nov 8, 2002)

Coolness 

I thought this story was a bit of a tease, but it definitely left me wondering what was going to happen next


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## enrious (Nov 10, 2002)

Looks interesting, can't wait for the next episode


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## PosterBoy (Nov 10, 2002)

Next episode please...


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## Vigilance (Jan 1, 2003)

*Part 2: Black Budget*

Marcus walked around the warehouse headquarters like he was on an inspection tour.  Always impassive, he seemed particularly unimpressed with the surroundings of the "New Coalition".  Turning suddenly, the former Excalibur agent fixed the mysterious woman shadowing him with a steely gaze.  

"The Senator certainly has a lot of toys. And what did you say your name was again?"

The blonde woman just watched him for a long moment, and Marcus felt a chill, like someone walking over his grave.  "You can call me Cassandra", she said at last.

Marcus snorted.  "Like from Greek Mythology hm?  Or perhaps the medical journals?  I'm not sure I believe that anyone 'sees the future' except the insane and the religious. So, I’m assuming all of these toys are accounted for on a government budget somewhere? No?  Black Budget project then is it."

Cassandra just smiled.

Marcus persisted, “So, you, a telepath, and a precognitive, me, a broken-down Excalibur agent, and Mr. Stradling, we three are supposed to track down the Countdown Killer? What do we do if this person has real powers?”

Cassandra’s smile vanished, and her eyes glazed over, like the return of winter to a still deep pond, and in an other-worldly voice uttered, “In the end no power will save us”.

Marcus took a step back involuntarily, as Cassandra smiled as if she had never spoken, voice back to its normal icy tone, “The Senator has arranged some firepower for us Mr. Warrick, rest…”

Marcus took another step back, and Cassandra’s expression changed, “It happened again didn’t it?”

“You mean you don’t know?”

Cassandra shook her head, but reached into her jacket and removed a small tape recorder, like one would use to record a meeting, and scanned backwards until that other voice, hers but not hers, again sounded through the quiet warehouse, “In the end no power will save us.”

Cassandra turned her back on Marcus, but he saw the muscles in her back tighten, and was suddenly glad he had never been given a “gift” like hers.  Quietly, almost tenderly, he asked, “What does that mean?”

Without turning around, she answered him, “It means, Mr. Warrick, that we need to get to work.”

Walking briskly, she returned to where Jeremy was still studying the strange vehicle, “So, Mr. Stradling, are you ready to take her out for a spin?  We have some friends to pick up.”

Jeremy smiled.  Marcus couldn’t remember having ever seen him smile before, and it was infectious.  Pushing up out of his wheelchair and into the cockpit of the large vehicle, Jeremy’s fingers danced on controls he had just seen for the first time moments ago like he had been training with them for months.  With quiet authority, the engine came alive, and in his thick southern accent Jeremy said, “Absolutely darlin, let’s get this show on the road.”

Still smiling, Marcus shed his jacket, shouldered his large frame into the passenger seat, looking at Cassandra.  “I’ve got shotgun, the lady can sit in the back, that is if there are no objections?”

And Cassandra smiled too.  A smile that almost managed to reach her eyes, “No Mister Warrick, no objections whatsoever.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, Jeremy opened the large bay door that allowed the vehicle to exit the warehouse, and, gunning the engine with a lion’s roar, hurtled out into the night.


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## Vigilance (Jan 1, 2003)

*New Coalition Cast of Characters (for now)*

I thought this might entertain, and help everyone sort through my "prose" (cough).  Enjoy! 

Marcus Warrick:  6’3’’ tall, 205 lbs, Grey Eyes, Bald.  Ex-agent of Excalibur, USHER's British division, an agency charged with, among other things, protection of the sword of legend, waiting for a worthy hero to claim it in Britain’s next time of need.

Jeremy "Fast Lane" Stradling:  5’9” tall, 178 lbs, blue eyes, dirty blonde hair.  Formula One driver who lost his legs from an accident involving a drunk driver.  The New Coalition’s resident Wheelman and gearhead, he provides the team with reliable, fast transportation in his shapechanging Van, the FL-1.

Cassandra:  5’2” tall, 102 lbs, ice blue eyes, platinum blonde hair.  Mysterious telepath with the ability of precognition.

The Benefactor:  Height and Weight unknown, Hair and Eye Color unknown.  The mysterious founder of the New Coalition, all the group knows about their Benefactor is that he is a US Senator and that he is funding their war against the Apocalypse Cult out of his Senate Intelligence Committee’s “Black Budget” for secret covert operations.

Apocalpse Cult:  Known to the media as the “Countdown Killer”, thanks to Andrea Meadows nightly update of their “tally” of kills on her tabloid “Exclusive” night time hit focusing on Syn City’s superpowered nightlife, this is actually a group of killers racing against time in an insane attempt to bring about the end of the world by ritually murdering someone every hour.  All the Coalition knows about this group is that their madness has spread even into Syn City’s police force, and that their members could be anyone, anywhere.


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## Vigilance (Jan 6, 2003)

*Episode 3: Muscle and Bone*

Marcus wrinkled his nose.  “Firepower?  Looks more like madness to me.”

His leg brushed against something as he moved through the cramped “lab”, if one could call it that.  “Dump” would be more appropriate.  A Dump for very hazardous materials.  Marcus’ leg caught on something again.  Looking down to remove whatever it was, he was that it was a hand and arm.  Holding onto his leg.

“What the hell?!?”

Marcus kicked his leg, and the arm flew across the tiny lab and landed with a fleshy thud.  When it hit the ground, it scampered off like a kicked puppy.  Marcus couldn’t believe his eyes.  Madness.  They were going to find the firepower to take out the Countdown Killer here?

Marcus moved around the cramped work table, with vials and test tubes of seemingly infinite variety.  He noted with alarm the percentage of them that were labeled “poisonous”,  “hazardous”, or “radioactive”.  Many had all three labels.  Seeing Cassandra, Marcus moved to where she was talking with the keeper of this circus, a tiny man with glasses so thick they could have been used as the refracting mirrors for the Hubble.  He was manic, gesturing so wildly when he talked that Cassandra frequently had to duck while he talked to avoid being pummeled.  He looked like he hadn’t eaten, slept, or bathed in days, and his wheezing breath whistled through a gap in his front teeth as he gesticulated, talking himself into such a frenzy that when he would pause to listen to Cassandra, which wasn’t often, he would have to pant to catch his breath.

Cassandra seemed extremely annoyed.  “… but do you have it.  You promised the Senator you could deliver the items, which is why he approved your resignation from U.S.H.E.R. in the first place Dr. Santini, and need I remind you that resignations from such secret organizations are rarely granted for people with you… condition?”

This seemed to send the little man’s frenzy to greater heights.  “I’m cured! I’m fine now!  I was the chief designer on Project: Blue Knight and the only American the Soviets would consult with when they had their “issues” with the new Shturmovik line.  Do I need to establish my credentials again every time I speak to you because of some little insignificant breakdown? It was just nerves.  Stress! I’m perfectly well now!”

“My God”, thought Marcus.

Cassandra placed her hand on the little scientist’s shoulder, and Marcus could feel the waves of empathic calm radiating off her.  He wasn’t sure if she was targeting him purposely to allay his growing unease with the direction this little endeavor seemed to be taking, but whether intentional or not, he felt his heartrate slowing along with Santini’s.    

“Now, now Doctor. No one is questioning your ability or competence.  The Senator trusted you with this project because of your past history.  He new if anyone could get this project back on track it was you.  That’s why you’re here.  Now, may I see what you do have?”

Santini exhaled, nodding, “Yes. Yes of course. This way please”

And so they followed him.  The lab was tiny, but so labyrinthine with highly stacked shelves full of electronics and acids that Marcus, an experienced navigator, wasn’t sure he could find his way out unaided.  Finally they came to what looked like a small, makeshift firing range.  The cold night wind rippled a plastic sheet that had been duct taped over a gaping hole in the wall.  Marcus couldn’t believe his eyes.  The bloody bastard had blown a hole in the wall.  And as the little man removed the tarp covering it, Marcus could see the source of the destruction.  A Gray suit of armor.  Battlesuits the techs called them.  Marcus looked it over, noting the large rockets fixed to the wrists.  One had been fired.  Marcus looked at the inventor, then the plastic covering the hole in the wall, “I take it the test firing went well?”

Santini seemed to shrink in on himself with embarrasement.  “Just a minor misfire while the suit was being moved into position! Nothing to worry about!”

Marcus regarded the little man dryly, glancing again at the hole in the wall, “As long as I’m not standing in front of it next time it misfires I suppose.”

Santini looked like he was going to go berserk again, but Cassandra interjected and broke his train of thought, “So, the suit works, you have a pilot selected for the suit? And he’s trained?”

Santini nodded vigorously, “Oh yes! He has been training in the suit for…”

Marcus’ mind drifted, examining the suit.  Clearly Santini knew his business.  This suit was built for fighting, Marcus had seen the Blue Knight Armor up close once, during a training seminar given by the Yanks.  That armor was built to command respect. To get criminals to surrender and engender awe and compliance among the civilians, with its blue armored sheen and gold badge that was actually part of the suit’s breastplate.  But not this armor.  This armor had a different purpose.  A military purpose.

“… and Colonel Brandon has assured me…”

Marcus started, mind returning to the conversation, “Colonel David Brandon?”

Santini started, totally flummoxed by the interruption of his train of thought, but his head jerked up and down in the affirmative, “Yes, he came quite highly recommended.  Very highly.”

Cassandra tilted her head, regarding Marcus intently.  “Is there a problem Mr. Warrick?”

Marcus shook his head, turning back to the suit, continuing to appreciate how sturdy it looked, mind going through names like a file cabinet, he knew that name from somewhere… long ago.

“… and then there’s the biomimesis unit…”

“Oh!”

Marcus reached instinctively for the Glock in his shoulder holster, but for the life of him he couldn’t see a reason for Cassandra to look so alarmed.  A young woman, lab assistant of some sort, pretty Marcus noted absently as he returned the gun to its holster, had joined the conversation.  Marcus walked over to join them, taking his eyes at last off the battlesuit and joining the others.  He lightly touched Cassandra on the arm while Santini rambled on about genetic forming or some other technobabble.  “You’re easily startled this evening aren’t you?”

Cassandra was just staring at the girl.  Finally she asked, “What is it?” 

Santini stopped talking, seemingly had no idea what to say to that.  

The girl spoke, “I am Heather”.

Cassandra took a step back, terrified, bumping right into Marcus.  “She’s not alive.”

The pretty girl inclined her head, long braided ponytail slipping off her shoulder, calmly regarding the large Excalibur agent and the terrified woman.  “I am Doctor Santini’s greatest creation, the Human Experiment, Artifically Transformed Hybrid Embryo Recombinant, but you may call me Heather for convenience.”

Marcus cleared his suddenly dry throat, regarding the girl he had regarded as pretty just a moment before in a new light.  Looking at Santini, he finally found his voice.  “You… made her? Like a robot?”

Santini smiled, obviously proud, like a parent, “I grew her, Mr. Warrick, out of a combination of biomimetic waste products and human embryos.  So in a sense you could say that I put the pieces together.”

Marcus slowly wrapped his mind around those words, mind moving slowly, “You’re talking about human body parts.”


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## Teflon Billy (Jan 6, 2003)

*Re: Episode 3: Muscle and Bone*



			
				Vigilance said:
			
		

> *...The pretty girl inclined her head, long braided ponytail slipping off her shoulder, calmly regarding the large Excalibur agent and the terrified woman.  “I am Doctor Santini’s greatest creation, the Human Experiment, Artifically Transformed Hybrid Embryo Recombinant, but you may call me Heather for convenience."...*




Consider that yoinked for my campaign


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## Vigilance (Jan 6, 2003)

Cool!

Thanks Billy  glad I could help 

I've been enjoying your storyhour as well on a lurker-only basis


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