Chapter 17: Interlude 1-2

John had no clue what Emily was talking about with their helpers. Something about matching recorded vehicles to the registration list with the facility. What he did know was that in a few minutes they’d have to run around a lot again- which was annoying because it was like 2:00 am local time, which meant it was 11:00 pm his time and he didn’t get to have dinner. It’s not like he was going to starve, but he was going to make sure they stopped somewhere to get dinner.

 

As he was about to look up local restaurants open at 2:00 am on his phone, Emily came out of the tent with a piece of paper and said, “we got a list of the potential vehicles our target may have taken to escape from here. I’ve got the team working through a few databases to see if any have popped up on traffic cameras or something.”

 

Taking the paper he gave it a quick glance. Only four listings were on it: two current-year SUVs, a high end sports car, and a sick looking motorcycle. “Can you do me a favor?” He asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. “It’d be great if you got these marked as ‘lost or requisitioned during a Breach.’”

 

Emily gave him a flat stare.

 

“Y-you know, for if our recruit got in trouble for having ‘stolen’ one or something… We wouldn’t want to have to go back in and wipe their record because of that, right?”

 

With a quick huff, Emily turned to go back into the tent, but did say, “I’ll see what we can do.”

 

“Shoot me a text when you’re ready to go, I’ll be off… checking the site… for… food?” John called back. If the bike was missed in the sweep of the facility, he was going to be very happy.

 

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John had only been able to search for twenty minutes before he got a text from Emily that they had got a hit. Apparently, the bike had been registered as potentially stolen by a nearby sheriff's office. That had bummed him out little: if whoever had escaped with it had gone twenty miles, they probably knew how to ride and probably would want it themself. But, on the bright side- that town had a 24/7 taco shop that had some good reviews.

 

In the meantime, he had been tasked with looking through the sheriff's report to see if it was likely to be their recruit in question. So far, his only observation was that the site’s layout sucked. It looked straight from the twenty-tens.

 

After a bit more digging he had found a related traffic stop report. A young woman had been pulled over just inside the town they were heading to for reckless driving. Apparently, they had been swerving and weren’t wearing a helmet. They also weren’t wearing any other safety gear and acted oddly- although that had been amended to be credited to near hypothermia. At the time of the report, they had been incoherent through the shivering and exhaustion, so they had been brought into the station and put in the drunk tank.

 

Apparently that description had put some pieces together for Emily as she floored it after hearing his summary. They were only a few miles out, but she wanted to get there as soon as possible. While under normal circumstances, doing 200 would be excessive, dangerous, and/or illegal- it was a normal tuesday for them.

 

Even better was when they were pulled over by a very tired looking cop, who was surprised to learn they were MGs- and even more so when he learned they wanted to go to the station.

 

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“She’s just in here,” The sheriff said as he led them to the cell. “Now let me- where’re my keys? Huh. You two feel free to chat with her while I look around for them. I must have misplaced them, they wouldn’t slip off this,” he finished, showing a screw-locking carabiner hooked around a belt loop.

 

Taking his advice they stepped around the corner to get a clear line of sight on the cell. Sitting huddled next to a space heater, was what looked to John like a small bundle of clothes. Really beat up and dirty clothes. Like, there were a bunch of small holes along the side he could see and bits of various-colored liquids stained on it. 

 

Talking in a soft voice, Emily asked, “Are you Silvia Brightworth?”

 

There was some shuffling from the pile as it straightened out and stood up to what looked like 5’7”. As the figure turned to face them and removed their hands from where they had been rubbing exhaustion out of their eyes, John could help but let out a small “Ooof.” 

 

The woman looked like she had been through some shit. She had two fresh looking scars running like tear trails down her face a little ways. There were more little dots and lines of similar scars across all the bare skin he could see- although a lot would be less noticeable when they weren’t so red and inflamed. She walked over to them with a limp and cradled one arm that looked particularly stained red. It was only when she fully opened her eyes to look at them that he was left speechless in shock. Her eyes were clouded over and an inflamed red. Even with his limited medical knowledge John knew those eyes weren’t seeing anything.

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He bent down to Emily and whispered, “With how pale she is and those scars, she kinda looked like a cracked porcelain doll.” 

 

The next thing he knew, he had been turned ninety degrees, his cheek hurt, and the building was shaking slightly. Not missing a beat, Emily continued, “The sheriff is looking for his keys so we can get you out of here.”

 

As he turned back, he saw the woman reach into one of her pockets and say, “You mean these?” in a hoarse voice they coughed to clear while pulling out a ring of keys. Without waiting for a reply, she proceeded to grab one seemingly at random, insert it into the lock, and let herself out.

 

Now in a much more confused voice, Emily asked, “Where did you get those?”

 

“I absentmindedly snagged them when I bumped into him. Didn’t really have a chance to return them without it being awkward till now.”

 

Intrigued by this situation, John added, “Didn’t the sheriff have them secured on an unscrewing carabiner?”

 

“Ahh… yeah… It’d be easier to just show you. Here, stand still,” the woman said motioning to Emily. Satisfied, she walked up and bumped into Emily, then made a show of making sure she was alright- during which some of the ULE in her body was used up, but John couldn’t quite say when or how. After taking a step back, the woman brought her hands out of her pockets which now contained Emily’s car keys and wallet.

 

Laughing and clapping, John cheered, “That's great! And also proves you’re who we’re looking for.”

 

In a more serious tone, Emily questioned, “Pardon the insensitivity, but you are blind, right? How are you so coordinated? Hell, how did you drive here?”

 

After briefly looking confused, they said “The same as how you probably ‘see’ in the dark? Manasight. But sadly, I can only really sense out to like fifteen feet.”

 

At the last bit, Emily’s face twitched in the same way John noticed it did when someone lied around her, but she apparently didn’t care- just asking, “and how do you know we’re MGs?”

 

“You,” the woman motioned to Emily, “Have a lot more ULE in your body than a normal person. And you,” motioning at John, “Have ULE flowing through you at a much higher rate, which makes it look like you have a lot less than normal. Unless you’re demons, you have to be MGs.”

 

Now John was really impressed. Most magical girls and guys couldn’t make out much with manasight, bumbling around like idiots when the instructors forced them to rely on it- much less actually consciously noticing the amount of ULE in something beyond ‘a lot’ and ‘almost none.’

 

Suitably impressed, John interrupted the conversation with his own input, “I don’t know about you guys, but this talk would be much better over some tacos. And, I just happen to know a place that’s open right now.”

 

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The taco shop had been pretty good. It was funny seeing the sole employee scramble to look professional when they came in, have a flash or recognition and excitement, then go back to a barely contained normal. It wasn’t until he was delivering their orders that he even noticed Silvia and flinched a little. While some MGs try to keep a low profile as civilians, both Emily and John didn’t really bother, so it wasn’t uncommon for people to recognize them. John did respect the worker for not asking for an autograph despite looking like he really wanted to. For that he made sure to sign and slip one of his ‘business’ cards under the receipt as a surprise.

 

When they got back to the sheriff’s office, it was easy to get the motorcycle back. The plan that Emily had put together while they were eating was to head to a small local airport and catch the plane she had called back to the Cascadia Special Zone. As they wanted to take their car back with them, she had made sure it was a small cargo plane and, much to both John and Silvia’s delight, would also be able to fit the motorcycle- which had been registered to Silvia somewhere along the line. If her testimonies about the character of the original owner were even half true, John didn’t think anyone would mind.

 

In a final nice twist, as she was currently blind and not wearing the right gear, Silvia had even let John ride it to the airport. All that could make today better in his mind was a good sleep when they finally got back.

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