The Crystal Method (Guardians RP #1)

Part One: The Crystal Method

The day dawned bright and clear over the foothills of the Colorado Rockies, spilling warm morning sunlight like so much Tang across the unremarkable terrain that hid the Guardians' planetside headquarters. Deep within the bosom of the Earth, the team slept soundly, little suspecting the peril that yet lay ahead.


It was Crystal Bankston -- Nightmare -- who first noticed the soft, insistent chime coming from her WEIRD unit. Half-drowsing, she rolled reluctantly away from her husband's enfolding arms and sat up, rubbing her eyes. With a yawn, she reached for the wristwatch-sized computer and tapped the screen. At her touch, the screen displayed a map of an unfamiliar area, with one spot marked by a blinking dot. Text scrolled across the image: UNIDENTIFIED SIGNAL DETECTED -- PROBES DISPATCHED -- ALL CONTACT LOST -- INPUT NEW PROTOCOLS?


The text vanished; in its place, a cursor winked on and off... on and off; somehow conveying an impatience no machine could reasonably feel. Then again, Iceberg-7 was no ordinary machine. While skeptical of I-7's capacity to understand emotional context, even Crystal had to admit there were times when the artificial intelligence seemed self-aware. The notion gave her a chill that had nothing to do with the icy aura radiating from Cam's body. An indulgent half-smile formed on her lips as she watched his peaceful slumber.


She decided not to disturb him just yet. These last few weeks had been... taxing, to say the least. Alternate universes, alien contact, super powers, and a space dragon? Nightmare had thought things were surreal enough in the aftermath of the wave. But this -- this was like something out of a comic book. Now, they were receiving strange signals of dubious origin, and the computer practically demanded that she do something about it. Well, whatever the fuck it was would have to wait until there was coffee. Crystal had her priorities.


Twenty minutes later, steaming mug in hand, Nightmare found Bonnie Blue already hard at work in the hologym. A computer-generated opponent, about six feet tall and a slender one-eighty, with a composite of bland facial features, held the young woman in a front facelock and was trying to lift her for a snap DDT. A look of comprehension crossed her face, and the Daughter of Time twisted suddenly, countering with a hurricanrana. Bonnie bounced to her feet once more, waiting as the solid-state hologram climbed to a vertical base and regarded her expectantly.


"Ok, let's try that again, but this time kick the aggression up a notch," she told the holo-figure.


"New instruction accepted," it replied agreeably. "Updating... compliance in fifteen seconds. Fourteen..."


In the periphery of her vision, Bonnie spotted Nightmare, a sense of urgency evident in her posture. Training program temporarily forgotten, Bonnie turned her attention to the other woman.


"What's up?" she asked.


Nightmare held up her wrist unit and pointed at it. "We got a thing. Didn't you get the alert?"


"Nah. I left the -- oof!"


At that precise moment, Bonnie's hologram sparring partner barreled into her and put her squarely on her shapely backside. Crystal hid a quiet giggle behind her hand.


"Heh. End simulation," she told the computer.


Immediately, the artificial wrestler vanished. Nightmare pulled Bonnie to her feet, still grinning. The Daughter of Time shot her an indignant look.


"You have to admit that was kinda funny," Crystal pointed out.


Bonnie Blue's features eased, with exaggerated slowness, into a toothy grin. "Yeah... you right."


"Oh, jeez... now you're starting. I think you may spend a little too much time with my husband."


"Really?" Bonnie sighed. "We've been over this, Crystal. I -- Oh." Belatedly, she realized she was being fucked with.


Nightmare's lips twitched in amusement at the slightly younger woman's discomfort. With a nod toward the spot where the holo-man had previously stood, she asked, "Been at it long?"


Bonnie shrugged. "Half-hour, maybe. Tryin' to get a handle on that Julian Mercury fella. Ain't never seen him work, y'know? I think he mighta been at the other place, but if'n he was, our paths never crossed. Wasn't sure of his style, so I had Eye-Seven put together a composite based on his profile."


"Another tag match this week?" Crystal asked, as she turned toward the door and motioned Bonnie to follow.


"Yeah. Erin Fausse, no big deal. Fought her in my debut match. She got the pin that night, but I walked out with a pretty fair understandin' of what kinda fighter she is." Bonnie strode briskly about half a pace behind Crystal, and slightly to her left. "Ain't sayin' it's gonna be easy -- she was the Risin' Stars champ for like two weeks, 'fore that jackass Sanchez took it off her. Couldn'ta happened to a nicer chick, right? Anyway, her I ain't that worried about. Last time we fought, it was what it was. Coulda just as easily been me or Alex who made the pin; she was simply... fo'tunate. Ain't gonna be so lucky a second time. Diff'rence 'tween me an' her -- well, there's a lot of 'em, 'cause for one thing, I ain't no delusional, quasi-religious nutcase -- but the big diff'rence is, I just get better every week, while she remains the same mediocre talent she always has been. Fine for her to toil on the midcard week in an' week out. Bonnie Blue an' the Polar Phantasm, though -- we got aspirations. Gods, I'm glad nobody's listenin' to this nonsense 'cept you.


I wish I could be more witty, like Jay... like Cam... They always come up with the good lines. They're the whole package. They can fight and they can work the mic, an' me... I'm just so lame. I mean, any given day, all else bein' equal, I'd fight anyone an' probably come out on top. I can walk the walk, but I can't talk the talk, y'know?"


"That's what bothers you?"


Bonnnie nodded. "Among other things, yeah. I mean, there are times I'm on fire an' I could rip an Erin Fausse or a Julian Mercury to shreds with a few well-placed words. I'd pour such verbal venom in your ear, ya'd think ya was a Danish king. But frankly, I find this week's competition a little... uninspirin'. I mean, what the hell? We got this Mercury guy, who is... I dunno, some kinda professional killer or somethin'? That's like half of everyone these days. Talk about your bubble economy, an' when that one busts... shit, I guess the ones who survive might round out our roster. Poor Jules prob'ly ain't gonna be among that number. Not after me an' Cam decimate him Sunday night.


His partner's no better, 'ceptin' I don't reckon she's done no murderin' yet. Or maybe she has. I mean, fuck, even I have. Remember that time we raided that drug kingpin's compound for the government?"


"You didn't kill anyone that time," Nightmare pointed out.


"Right. But I coulda. Then, when that Darrikaan scout ship showed up, I know I scored more than one direct hit."


"Yeah," Crystal told her. "But it wasn't the kill shot."


Bonnie frowned. "Huh. I coulda sworn... Well, I totally murdered the shit outta a couple of dinosaur-men when I went seventy-five million years in the past. There was this other guy there -- kind of a shifty dude, but you take help where you can get it. Hadn't been for him, I'd probably have been velociraptor chow, or worse."


"What's worse than that?"


"They were using humans as slaves, and what looked like weird medical experiments."


"And why did you have to go seventy-five million years into the past to fight dinosaur-men?" Crystal asked, her skepticism clear in the tone of her voice.


"I had to get a thing for Mr. Tesla so he could bring Jay Omega back from the dead."


Crystal stopped and turned to face the younger woman, incredulous. "What?"


"Yeah, I know, it sounds ridiculous. He was obviously in another universe the whole time."


"Somebody say my name?" asked Jay, who had silently joined them in the concrete corridor.


"Mornin', Jay. We're havin' a walk-an'-talk like on that show, the West Wing. We been goin' in circles for like ten minutes."


"Literally, or conversationally?" he asked.


"Both," Crystal answered. "Look, before this gets any stranger -- nevermind, it's going to get stranger. We might need Richards for this. Anybody seen him?"


"Y'ain't gonna, if'n he don't wanna be seen."


Nightmare rolled her eyes. As if she needed reminding of Alex's ability to be invisible; she'd already started threatening the shower with her shotgun as a precaution.


"Eye-Seven," she said, "locate User: Alex Richards."


"Request acknowledged, User: Nightmare. Scanning.... User: Alex Richards is on Level Two. Vital signs indicate subject is unconscious due to mild alcohol toxicity. "


"Shit. Just us, then. Let's go wake Cam so we can figure this thing out."


"What thing?" Jay asked, hurrying to catch up with the two women.


Bonnie simply shrugged and gave him a look that indicated she was as puzzled as he. They followed Crystal to the door that led to the Unstable Elements' bedroom, and stopped at the threshold like a couple of vampires lacking an invitation. The two waited as she perched on the edge of the bed and gently shook Cam's shoulder. He grumbled and pulled the covers up over his head. Her face suffused suddenly by a look of concern, Crystal put a hand to his brow -- instinct overriding sense -- until she realized he probably couldn't run a fever. A hushed conversation took place between husband and wife as she looked him over, then sighed and returned to the other Guardians.


"He says he isn't feeling well," she announced. "Looks like we're on our own."


"Seriously?" Bonnie asked, looking past her to the figure huddled beneath a blanket. "What the fuck you got, a cold?"


"Yeah, for real," Omega chimed in. "You got that mutant healing factor, son! Get up!"


"Don't say 'mutant,' Jay. That's insensitive."


From the bed, Polar raised his voice just enough to be heard. "I swear, if Sentinels crash through the ceiling and try to exterminate us all, it'll be your fault, 'Megs."


This was followed by a fit of coughing, as if the exertion of making a single statement had been too much for him in his condition. He slumped back aginst the pillows and managed to look pitiful.


"Can't you guys handle this on your own? Crystal can run an op as well as I can..."


"Yeah, but.... dude," Omega protested persuasively.


"What he said," Bonnie agreed.


Nightmare's response was an indignant huff, accompanied by a scowl that said more than any number of well-chosen curses might have at that moment. Bonnie struck a conciliatory tone.


"It's not that we doubt you, Crystal. We're just used to Cam bein' the alpha dog, that's all," she said. "For that matter, why does anybody have to be in charge? We're all reasonably intelligent people..."


"Reasonably intelligent people... whose aircraft are most likely flagged as potentially hostile. Do you know military procedure? Protocols? What airspace is restricted? Can you plot a course that minimizes the team's chances of being picked up by radar? Either of you?" Vapor molecules in the air froze and formed themselves into a question mark for emphasis. "No? Well Crystal does, and she can, so ...deal with it."


The Polar Phantasm's icy tone brooked no argument. Jay and Bonnie exchanged a glance; both shrugged in acquiescence.


"Are you gonna be ok, though?" Bonnie asked. "Like, for real?"


"Sure," Polar said, giving her a weak smile. "I think. Probably part of adjusting to these weird new abilities. Give me a day to rest up, I'll be good as new."


"Good," she told him. "We got some asses to kick this weekend, an' I ain't doin' it by myself."


At that, Nightmare ushered the two of them away from the bedroom. "In the hangar in five. I'll brief you both there."




Dressed in a form-fitting sapphire-hued jumpsuit, Bonnie Blue leaned against the hood of her Ford Ranchero, watching as Jay Omega finished running a standard preflight check on the podcycle's systems. Meanwhile, Crystal Bankston pressed a hotkey on her WEIRD unit and a three-dimensional projection came to life. Here was the same image she'd initially seen that morning -- a map with the blinking dot still hovering above a nameless location.


"Right, so... this morning, Eye-Seven picked up a signal it couldn't identify and sent probes to investigate. Contact was lost shortly after the drones arrived at this location." Nightmare pointed at the dot. "So we'll proceed with caution. It's just recon at this point -- fly out, see what's what, find out what happened to Eye-Seven's probes."


"And try not to get shot down," Omega added with a hint of snark.


"That should have been obvious," she returned haughtily, but sent him a mischievous grin. "Now, we're going to come in low and from three separate directions; we don't need to give whoever it is an easy target. Jay, you'll make the initial approach -- you're lighter, faster, and more maneuverable. I'll be about half a minute behind you, and Bonnie, you'll cover our asses if this goes sideways."


"You mean 'when'," Bonnie said.


Crystal didn't even try to protest. She simply nodded. "Knowing our luck, it's better to err on the side of caution. Worst case, something happens to me or Jay, you can put that time machine of yours to good use."


"Right on," the young blonde agreed, opting to save a lecture on the creation of paradoxes for another time. "Hey, does anybody else smell a setup, here?"


A meaningful glance passed between Nightmare and Jay. Then Omega shook his head.


"No, definitely not," he stated emphatically.


"Probably," Crystal added, following a significant pause.


Moments later, the team was airborne and making their way with speed and stealth to the coordinates supplied by Iceberg-7. As they'd planned, Omega swept in first, making a cautious loop around the designated area before he reported in.


"I don't see shit out here, boss."


"Keep your eyes peeled and your head on a swivel," came the reply. "Something took out those probes..."


The DREEM hovered in the sky to the east and swung into a search pattern that overlapped Omega's. So far, there had been no sign of the lost machines... no movement, in fact, at all. Far below, the ground was arid, flat. Clouds of dust billowed out on intermittent winds. All of it had been farmland, just over a year ago.


Suddenly, a shadow fell across the sun-bleached landscape and seemed to engulf the two Guardian craft.


"YEEE-HAA-- aww, what the fuck?!"


An emerald-green Ranchero burst from the timespace matrix and into reality with a flare of brilliant white -- just in time for Bonnie Blue to observe a row of blocky shapes descending from the sky above. Moving in a strange, halting motion, the shapes moved laterally in one direction until they hit some unseen limit. Then, the entire row dropped down to reveal another above it, while the lower level changed direction and the whole process began anew. Once more, the row of cubic shapes hit its terminal limit and dropped down, moving in the opposite direction.


Jay Omega recognized the pattern. "Oh, sweet Krishna! It's fucking Space Invaders!"


"What do we do?" Bonnie asked, puzzled.


"Frag the hell out of 'em!" he said, and immediately followed his own advice.


Bonnie and Crystal followed suit, cutting through the inexorable ranks with relative ease. It wasn't long before the whole wave was wiped out. They were just about to congratulate themselves on a job well done, when a new squadron appeared, this time moving perceptibly faster. The cyclepod, the hovertank, and the bulky Ranchero danced through the skies, each weaving in, out, and around another's flight path as they reduced their targets to so much pixelated dust.


With the second wave down, none of them were about to relax. And sure enough, a third round began, this one faster still. It was getting difficult to keep up, even with three of them working in tandem. All at once, Nightmare broke off her attack as a pair of ships -- which vaguely resembled something constructed from Legos -- joined in the fray. They dove, rolled, and juked with an agility belied by their odd, bricklike design to keep up with every maneuver she tried.


In the meantime, nearly overwhelmed by Invaders, Bonnie Blue and Jay Omega took evasive action -- right into the path of one of the fighter craft. A beam of light shot out from the front of it and transfixed the cyclepod. Desperately, Jay tried to roll out of it, but the ray held firm. His weapons continued to function, however, so he unleashed everything he had at the larger vessel -- all to no avail. When the smoke cleared, he hadn't even managed to scratch the paint.


Crystal and Bonnie split up in an effort to keep the other one occupied. Immediately, it targeted the Ranchero and angled around to give chase. Nightmare followed, dropping neatly into the ship's vapor trail, and lined it up in the crosshairs. Just as the ship activated a tractor beam of its own, she let go with a pair of modified Sidewinder missiles. The vessel rocked under the concussive force, but maintained its hold on Bonnie's vehicle.


Before Nightmare could take her next shot, the two fighters sped through the atmosphere -- not up, as she might have expected, but down and across the landscape to vanish utterly in the distance. Around and above her, the Space Invaders had ceased to invade and even as she watched, disintigrated bit by cube-shaped bit.


"Well," she said aloud to no one in particular, "that was fucked."


And, with a heaviness in her heart, she turned the hovertank around and headed home.





TWO BITS, FOUR BITS, 8-BIT, DISASTER

Series conceived by the Polar Phantasm
Series directed by the Polar Phantasm
Episode One: The Crystal Method
Episode written by: Bonnie Blue


[(c) United Championship Infinite 2016. All rights reserved.]