EVO Universe 1: The First (25 page)

The neighborhood became alive as people either stuck their heads out of their windows or ran out from wherever they were to see what the hell had happened. Sophia pulled herself off the top of his obliterated SUV with her hood covering the upper half of her face.

She turned walking up to get face to face with a traumatized Deuce, “Who’s the bitch now…bitch?”

She did not even wait for him to answer, whether it was to apologize or beg for his life as she turned walking away to pick up her bags before taking a few steps and leaped into the air to get some distance between her and the incident speeding off in heels.

The second she left, the masses came flocking around to witness the destruction she had unleashed on Deuce’s now deceased vehicle as his friends flocked around him frantically asking him if he was all right. Deuce just stood there with that blank distressed expression looking in the direction Sophia sped.

Six buildings away Sophia turned into a back alley and fast walked out of it into the street with hood still up and head down trying to keep a low profile once again. She cursed herself for losing her temper back there. The over grown punk son of a bitch was not even really worth it she thought to herself, she could have walked away and ignored him, but the minute he opened his mouth it was like claws in the back of her brain and she just had to take him down a peg, actually several pegs.

However, her male castration via “vehicular manslaughter” had now drawn attention to her current location sooner than she wanted. She knew she had to go up against the law again, and she was serious about not running, but she still needed to pick her battles for the time being staying under the radar.

Soon the entire country, probably the world would know about her and everything happening under their noses. For now constant movement and staying under the radar until the right time had to be her religion. For breaking one of the commandments, she had to leave the state altogether, and find another place to crash and burrow in until the mayhem she caused cooled down a bit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the other side of the country, Director Rosen sat at his desk holding a piece of banana as a black and white spider monkey greedily reached out to grab it.

“Remember Cornelius,” Director using baby talk on the monkey, “Do not grab…do not…”

Despite his command the little spider monkey snatched the piece of banana from his grip quickly chomping down on it, as he looked up at the Director who just smiled at it wagging his finger, “Naughty little spider monkey…naughty…naughty…”

In the middle of his playful scolding, his telecom emitted a high-pitched ring tone startling the spider monkey a bit.

The Director rolled his eyes with annoyance as he answered it, “What is it Ms. Barrett?”

“Sir the target has been reported seen in the nation’s capital,” she reported.

“In less than twenty-one hours,” he said to himself, “Most impressive…”

“Sir,” she began to interject, “The team has also completed the operator training.”

“And the other matter?” he asked talking in code.

“Agent Slater is in route with a team to collect the package as we speak,” she confirmed.

“The minute he’s confirmed pick-up, ready the team, and the necessary equipment for a trip down to Washington DC,” he instructed.

“Sir,” Mr. Barrett asked a bit concerned, “You’re going to attempt an extraction in the nation’s…?”

“Thank you for carrying out your orders Ms. Barrett,” he said as a hint for her to do her duty and not to question him.

“Yes sir,” she said taking the hint.

The Director turned off the telecom, as he broke off another piece of the banana holding it up for an anxiously waiting Cornelius, “Daddy’s going to capture a god…isn’t that wonder Cornelius? Yes it is…don’t grab…don’t…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Six hours and forty-four minutes later, Armitage and Mercer stood on Good Hope Road side by side inspecting what was left of the SUV belonging to Deuce; around them agents and reporters subjected themselves to the hood interview accounts of various eyewitnesses to the woman who laid waste to Mr. Deuce’s vehicle with a single superhuman blow.

Taken from the account of the typical street interviewee verbatim, “Yo son, I saw it wit my own eyes son. Shortie took two steps, and leaped into da mafuckin stratosphere an shit, den came down on homie’s whip on some incredible juggernaut destruction type shit like blouw! An I was like “Ooooooooo shit!” Blew out da nigga’s windows and everythang…den she just rolled off his shit, called him a bitch and took off in a single mufuckin bound dataway! Left him cryin and shakin next to his busted up whip and shit…wit snot runnin out of his nose an shit…I ain’t neva seen no shit like dat son!”

Deuce’s interview went a bit differently, “I was standing next to my vehicle talking to some old acquaintances when this…this woman came from out of nowhere and laid waste to my vehicle! Honestly I don’t even think she was a woman!”

“Acquaintances?” shot back one of his friends who evidently called himself Tru Dat, “Who da fuck you callin “acquaintances”?”

The agent he was talking too actually learned that the hardcore thug known as Deuce’s actual name was Nathanial Walters, a Harvard graduate working on his Masters and an attorney for a very reputable law firm who actually lived in the prestigious Georgetown area of DC. The agent derived a conclusion that Mr. Walters a.k.a Deuce was just was a wannabe thug who happened to hang out with his going nowhere friends from the old neighborhood from time to time just to boost his ego.

It also did not help that Mr. Walters gave his acquaintance Tru Dat the “talk to the hand” sign officially losing all street cred, “Please! I am talking to a federal agent here! Please!”

“Dat’s why supashortie wrecked yo shit…bitch,” shot back Tru Dat.

Nathanial Walters ignored him wanting to know what the federal agent he was talking too was going to do about his car, “I am a taxpaying citizen, a corporate attorney for Pendergrass and Munich, and I need to know what you intend to do about this? What am I supposed to tell my insurance company?”

“Tell em da truth,” laughed Tru Dat, “Supahead Randy Savaged yo shit!”

“You can walk home!” Walters pointed at him having enough.

“You walking home too bitch…” Tru Dat shot back.

“We’re trying to do everything we can sir,” the agent said trying to calm the situation down, “Just need to ask you a few more questions.”

“Well…at least now we know where she is…” Dustin let out.

Mark glanced over to Dustin as if he wanted to really take out his service piece and shoot him, when Executive Assistant Director Douglas King walked up to them none too happy.

A former military man himself hailing from the Army Special Forces he still wore the traditional military crew cut, which matched his granite exterior. Like Armitage and Mercer, he worked his way through the ranks, but knew when it was time to get out of the field and let the young blood take over while he sought a leadership position for better pay and a corner office.

Half of him respected his two senior officers because they were war dogs just like him, the other half wanted to take them behind the tool shed because of their dual lack of respect for authority and old dog mentality.

Currently his patience was officially nonexistent seeing as how the situation that was supposed to be contained in Texas had traveled from the Midwest to the most important state in the country.

“Enough is enough,” King muttered, “I’m heading this case…Sophia Dennison has now been moved up to the very top of the most wanted list...we’re locking down DC…kill on site…that’s the order.”

“And how do you expect to do that Doug,” Mark asked not even looking at his boss, “When
bullets
have no effect on her? You gonna start issuing out tanks to us?”

“That’s Executive Assistant Director,” King reminded him, “And in case you haven’t notice your goddamn fugitive is now in the nation’s goddamn capital!”

“And this is our fault,” Mark no longer giving a damn about rank and title went off, “Because we’ve dealt with super humans before, so we should know how to take her down right? Because we forgot to carry the green rock that went with our goddamn service pieces!”

“No one is blaming you Mark,” King squared off with him toe to toe, “But you are two seconds from getting shit canned if you don’t start both addressing and respecting the title I’ve earned! Now if this is too much for you, you can go home Special Agent…”

Mark gave him that “you can’t drag me away” look, as Dustin placed a hand on his shoulder gesturing for him to calm down if he wanted to stay in this.

“Now, allow me to reiterate this again,” King issued his final order, “Sophia Dennison is officially a terrorist of the United States of America at the
top
of the list; which means you are authorized to use any means necessary to find her and to stop her! The order is to kill on sight…that means if you need a fucking tank to take her down…get one. Is that clear?”

“What about our report?” Mark bit back grinding his teeth.

“The one implicating a decorated Four Star General is in association with a fictional death squad under this government corroborated by a dishonorably discharged soldier, a friend of the terrorist fugitive, and the terrorist fugitive herself…how should I answer that?” King glared with sarcasm, “Let me simplify it for you...there
is
no death squad, and stay the hell away from General Matheson…is that also
clear
?

King does not wait for a response as he marched away. Armitage bowed his head fighting to control his rage; Mercer moved in front of him to block him from possibly tackling King from behind and beating him in the middle of the street, although the old man looked like he would give Mark a hell of a fight.

“We’ll strengthen security around the capital,” Dustin began shooting off ideas, “Get birds in the air, drones, cameras, and all the man power we can muster…we’ll find her.”

Mark let out a frustrated laugh, “And do what Dustin? Besides piss her off, and cause billions of dollars in mass destruction trying to stop her, not to mention getting a lot of people hurt or worse?”

Dustin looked around baffled, “Why the hell did she come here in the first place? Why not New York or LA like they do in the movies? It’s as if she’s looking for a fight.”

Mark took in a deep breath and released it finally calming down, “That’s exactly what she’s looking for…she believes a government sanctioned death squad murdered her husband and turned her world upside down, what better stage for a confrontation than right here? She’s here to call out those responsible.”

“So what do we do?” Dustin asked his partner with the plan.

Mark no longer had one as he shrugged his shoulders in defeat, “We wait…for the shit to hit the fan…and pray we don’t get buried by it.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

8:50 AM Monday Morning September 8th, her little antic two nights ago had placed the entire state on high alert, all around her were heavily armed officers and soldiers on almost every corner, squad cars and personnel vehicles driving up and down the city, while helicopters scanned the air; she could have sworn she even saw a drone or two.

The heat was so bad instead of traveling one; she jumped two states away to avoid detection. It did not matter; the objective was always to wait for Monday to initiate her plan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She remembered the day before promising to wage no war on a Sunday, instead she found another motel to set up camp, changed her clothes putting on a pretty long yellow flowing summer dress, with white sling-back wedges, and a small purse she picked up. Items she would later leave in a bus stop locker with the rest of her belongings that she did not need to carry for this mission. After Sunday, it would no longer matter if she came back for them or not. She found the nearest church to visit taking part in the sermon to kill half the day. It was Pentecostal, the sermon of the day by the pastor was God’s miracles, and the incident at Interstate 10 somehow became a part of his sermon.

She thought it would have been amusing if she could have stood up and informed the congregation that the person he was taking about was standing in their midst, but she opted to making goo-goo eyes at a little girl with pigtails staring back at her from the pew in front.

A mother next to her asked if she could kindly hold her eight-month old while she got his bottle from her bag. She nervously obliged holding the child that just stared back at her with inquisitive eyes.

The child appeared to be more fascinated with her dreads as he reached out to grab one handling it. The innocent act made her eyes gloss over. His mother noticed the sadness her eyes could not hide.

She leaned in whispering in her ear, “Your time will come…God has a plan for you. You just have to believe.”

Sophia wanted to tell her with a smile that God screwed up her plans four years ago, using the F-word as the verb. She opted to just smile and thank her. If He did exist she had a grudge against her Creator, she was there because it was less likely for F.B.I agents or local authorities to storm one of His houses during a service looking for her. It was the least He could do for her. She became the designated babysitter for the rest of the service, left a substantial offering, and vanished before anyone could ask her if she accepted Jesus Christ into her life.