Chapter 47: Ma Deuces

James fielded questions for the next twenty or so minutes, though it quickly became obvious that most folks just wanted to hear themselves talk. He was patient, however, answered what he could, admitted when he didn’t know something - which was often - and promised to get back to folks on everything they wanted to know.

In the end some thirty or forty individuals left, some coming up to apologize and give their reasons, others slipping out the double doors quietly and without a glance back. James watched them go with a feeling of remorse and resignation.

This really was the best he could do. Maybe somebody else could have navigated these political waters better, but he wasn’t a power broker or politician. He was just an old dude trying to keep his head above water and his eyes on the prize: killing demons.

Finally he raised his hands, signaling an end to the questions, and raised the mike once more.

“We’re going to call it a night, folks. Part of me wants to hammer on and hit the streets, but we’re all low on Aeviternum and too disorganized right to do a proper strike. So instead I’m going to hold a war council, figure out how we’re going to handle tomorrow, and get ready for the Third Wave. Get some rest. Come dawn I want to get to killing demons, which means processing and orientating everyone starting around 5 a.m. Crimson leaders, come join me in about five minutes.”

Folks subsided, turned to talk to each other. James turned off the mike and descended from the stage.

“Cindy,” he said. “We’re going to need a fresh headcount and an update on levels and Benedictions. We still got the manpower to handle a fresh survey before heading out?”

Cindy bobbed her head. “Yes sir. I’ve got two assistants here right now, and another three returning in the morning. I’ll let them know to be here by six.”

“We’ll work on the spreadsheet together,” said Star Boy - no, Richard, “and have a system in place for the morning. Also, exciting news: I liberated several hundred AirTags this afternoon from an Apple store. So I’m going to distribute them to each team leader for a start -”

“Liberated?” asked Serenity, her tone amused.

Richard grinned back. “That’s right. You know the huge store on Flushing Ave? It’s been closed for days now, so I finally got through to corporate, and like totally scared the pants off some high-level manager there who got security to let me in.” His grin widened. “It was awesome. I almost grabbed a bunch of other stuff, too, but we’re not yet in full Mad Max mode. I’ll work tonight on getting them synced up with our ASSOC system, which is about ready to go. We got satellite feeds, traffic data - which, surprise, sucks right now - and constant communication with Fort Hamilton and other military outposts, including, which is pretty crazy, the Department of Defense? I haven’t called them yet.”

James let all this information wash over him. “That all sounds good. But what I want before we head out on our dawn raid is the following: an exact census of everybody’s who’s willing to join Blue Light, their ranks, Benedictions, and to rearrange them as necessary so that each team -”

“Ka-tet,” said Richard.

“Is ready to work that synergy from the get-go. I want emphasis placed primarily on getting someone to Iron Aura, as that’ll be crucial for leveling up the whole team. So no redundancies there if possible.”

“Got it,” said Cindy. “We’ll only be hampered by whether everybody shows up on time.” She glanced at Richard for confirmation. “But we can put in place sorting algorithms that’ll do the heavy lifting as soon as people check in.”

“Good,” said James. “All right, let me speak with Crimson Hydra and then it’s time for our battle plans.”

Cindy and Richard stepped away, and James led Serenity back over to their crew who were waiting in a huddle, Bjørn clearly trying to reason with Sarah.

“She’s leaving,” said Joanna, clearly despondent.

Bjørn went to explain but James held up a hand, cutting him off, and moved to stand before Sarah.

She wasn’t very tall, but somehow projected a sense of stature. She gazed at him with her shockingly piercing eyes, and he saw her resolve and accepted it.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For the time you gave us. Good luck out there.”

Her eyes narrowed a fraction and then she nodded curtly. “You’re a good man, James. I hope you don’t have cause for regret.”

He smiled. “No regrets. New motto of mine. Just do the best I can as I go along and try to fail as few people as possible. Don’t hesitate to look us up if you ever want to check back in.”

She nodded again, surveyed their crew, then hitched her pack up over one shoulder and strode toward the double doors.

“You’re just going to let her go?” demanded Bjørn.

“You want me to wrestle her to the floor?”

“No, but you’re a charismatic man, you’ve a way with words. You could have tried, James.”

“Nah.” James watched Sarah disappear through the doors. “Wouldn’t have worked. Sarah knows her own mind. I respect her for it.”

“Sure, I respect her as well, but what about our damn synergy?” Bjørn raked his hands over his hair, his frustration obvious. “Our Circle of Protection just walked out on us and we don’t all have Iron Aura. How are we supposed to take on thousands of demons without her?”

“We’ll have to figure it out,” said James. “I’m not happy about it, Bjørn, but you gotta respect people. And if you think Sarah could be swayed, well, then you clearly think more of me than you should.”

Bjørn went to respond but James turned at last and fixed him with a stare.

Bjørn grimaced and subsided. “Fine. Whatever. You’re the leader here, though I’ll be honest, your letting Sarah go was a huge red flag for me.”

“Agreed,” said Becca. “You could have at least tried.”

James considered them both and saw their privilege. Both were young, good looking, healthy, and clearly used to getting their way. The kind of people that argued with cops, who felt entitled to the good things in life, which felt like they deserved special treatment simply for being who they were.

They couldn’t understand letting Sarah go. To them it wasn’t a question of respect and acknowledging that Sarah couldn’t be browbeaten, but more that something useful was being allowed to walk. A tool. An asset. Something that benefited them.

The others were watching. Yadriel’s hooded gaze considering. Joanna and Denzel frowning.

Was this a test of his leadership? He supposed it was.

“You’re both good judges of character,” said James. “Bjørn, you’ve probably hired and fired and managed more people than I can imagine. Becca, you’ve worked along other soldiers and security guards and learned when to trust and how to depend on people.”

They both listened, but he felt a slightly lowering of their guard. Everybody liked being complimented, especially entitled people.

“But Sarah is from the streets. By my guess she’s been living on them for most her life. I only did seven years, but in that time I saw really few people with that kind of iron in them. In my gut I knew she’d not be swayed. That arguing with her would only cause her to respect me less. This way at least we left a door open to her returning. Who knows what the future will bring? But arguing with her now would only have burnt bridges. I’m honored she even stuck around to say goodbye.”

Bjørn scrunched up his face, then threw up his hands. “I’ll leave it to your street expertise, then. Not my style to let good people go, but what’s done is done.”

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Becca shrugged. “Whatever you say, James.”

James could sense Serenity’s desire to interject and appreciated her holding back. “We’ll find someone to replace her. But now I gotta go talk to the other heads of the Crimson teams. You guys take it easy. I’ll loop back around when I can.”

“I’m going to go to my room,” said Joanna. “Becca, you want to come with?”

“Nah,” said Becca, glancing at Bjørn. “I’m going to see if I can get a drink at the hotel bar. I’ll be up later.”

“I’m going to try and get hold of my folks,” said Denzel. “I promised I’d touch base every few hours.”

Jason stretched, his olive-green shirt riding high to reveal his chiseled abdomen. “I learned to sack out whenever there was a chance. Wake me if you need me.”

Yadriel put in a pair of earbuds, shoved his hands in his hoody pockets, and walked away.

James met Bjørn’s dark gaze and held it for a moment. Just long enough to get a sense of the other man’s flinty resolve, then nodded and turned away.

“What the fuck was that about?” asked Serenity as they returned to the stage. “Any idiot could see Sarah was going to go.”

“Bjørn’s no idiot,” said James. “He’s a big-time fancy CFO. I was wondering how long he’d be content to play second fiddle to a homeless guy.”

“You think he’s going to make a play to run things?”

“Sooner or later, yeah. I don’t think he can help himself.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“For now? Nothing. I guess that’s the benefit to being in the military. Majors can’t be replaced by lieutenants, or whatever he’ll end up being. I’m safe for now. But I’ll keep an eye on him. And to be honest?” He paused and glanced sidelong at Serenity. “If he proves better than me at all this? I’ll let him take my place. But first he’ll have to convince me.”

“Bullshit,” said Serenity. “That guy’s so in love with himself it’s a mercy he can’t suck his own dick. Otherwise he’d never leave the bathroom.”

James snorted. “Lovely imagery. Thanks.”

“But Becca and him have something going on, don’t you think?”

“I do. Again, makes sense. They both see themselves as top predators. They’re both single, we’re in a constant state of near death. I’d be surprised if all they do is get drinks at the bar.”

“Makes them a faction, though. Shit.” Serenity ground the base of her palm into her eye. “The more things change, the more things stay the same.”

James approached Cindy and Richard, told them about Sarah’s departure, and asked them to flag a new replacement, then headed to the area before the stage where some twenty men and women stood awaiting him.

“Evening, folks.” He moved to the fore, and they made a rough semi-circle. He recognized a few. Carvajal with Crimson Dragon, a sandy haired young man with a hollowed-out gaze and a machete at each hip; Young with Crimson Naga, her blonde hair so pale it was almost white; old man Bennet with Sphinx, his skin lined and wrinkled as if someone had scrunched up a paper bag and smoothed it out over his face.

“I’m not good with names, so let’s go round once more and introduce ourselves. Say our name, team, level, and benedictions. Then we’ll get to it.”

Everybody did so; James tried to hold on to identities but was mostly just glad to hear that everyone present was at least Supplicant 1.

“So here’s our situation.” He crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels. “There are thirty-four symbols, three of which have been neutralized, though we’ve no idea if the Third Wave will rebuild. We’re guessing that around ten thousand or so Nemesis 2’s will reinforce each symbol after the third wave hits this evening. We’ve got fourteen days till the Nemesis 3’s arrive, so the way I see it, we need to focus today and tomorrow on killing as many demons as they try to reach the symbols as possible, then launch strikes on the remaining enemy forces over the following two weeks.”

Baker from Wraith, a bald, heavily muscled guy with a Punisher skull stenciled on his black flak jacket, raised a hand. “How many we estimating coming in with the Fourth Wave?”

“I don’t know, not for sure. Another thirty thousand for each symbol?”

“Shee-it,” said Baker, looking around at the others as if to check for incredulity. “How are we supposed to kill that many? The army going to back us up?”

“Well, here’s what I was thinking. Each hive is about six to nine square blocks and has about eight streets leading into it from all directions. What’s thirty-one multiplied by eight?”

“Two-hundred and forty-eight,” said Lindsey, a corpulent guy in overalls with a chainsaw by his feet.

“We’ve got something like eighty teams of our own, given the losses we’re taking with going Blue Light, but I’m sure we can get Colonel Hackworth to help us out with another two hundred squads. We put a team in each street with a couple of big machine guns and all the ammo in the world, then Smite the Nemesis 2’s as they come.”

“We’d want Ma Deuces,” said Nakalanzi from Crimson Bugbear. He was a tall, almost cadaverous man, his features gaunt, his hair shaved to the skull which was prominent beneath his skin. “Fifty caliber bullets.”

“Machine gun nests,” agreed Baker, rubbing his hand over the Punisher skull stencil. “Now that I can get behind. With our synergies, we’d reap so much experience we’d all level up in no time.”

“Right,” said James. “If we set it up right, we can prevent the third and fourth waves from reinforcing the nests, then once we’ve held them off, turn out attention to wiping out the queens with Iron Auras. At that point it should be pretty simple.”

There were nods all round.

Kälin, a middle-aged woman with her graying brown hair pulled back in a business-like bun and a piercing stare raised an eyebrow. “And we’re to put all this in place by this afternoon? I’m skeptical.”

“We can try.” James rubbed at his bearded jaw. “That’s my thinking, at any rate. A couple of Ma Deuces with the Smite folks and M4’s for everyone else. We’ll not stop every demon, especially those that cross over the roof tops, but they seem to prefer the streets regardless.”

Baker sneered. “And if the army don’t want to play ball?”

“Then fuck ‘em,” said James, his tone gentle despite his words. “We’ll encircle as many symbols as we can by ourselves, level up, then go to town over the remaining fourteen days.”

More nods all around.

“Then let me make some phone calls,” said James. “Maybe being part of the military won’t be so bad after all.”

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