The Lord of Shadows Arc: Apocrypha

This is not meant to be one of those insipid, overly sentimental stories about that September 11--you know damn well which one. But the fact is, one cannot write a realistic contemporary American character without dealing with that day in some way, at some point. So, I decided to tackle it head on.

If you have a problem with stories involving the events of that day, you may not want to read this. If you were personally effected by the events, you should know that this story takes place on that day, at the Pentagon, and I don't want you reading this without warning that for you, this may bring up harsh memories.

That being said, I also think this is rather well written, and gets to the heart of this character. Well, to one of her hearts, anyway. . .^_^

And look for the bit with Todd!

*digital communication*

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The Day Her World Ended


11/09/2001 08:43:00 hours

It was a beautiful morning over Northern Virginia, the sun rising through a clear early autumn sky. Earlier, the dawn had stained the outer walls of the Pentagon a rosy red, but now as the day advanced, the light had muted to its normal sunny gold.

Merry laugher rang through the E ring between corridors four and five. It was hide-and-seek day, Helen's favorite day of the week. As usual, they were relegated to the subterranean levels, and this week, they had been told by a very strict Mr. Hinemura, "Only D and E Ring, between corridors four and five. And no uplinking! You must do this the hard, human way! No cheating, and to be sure, we're locking you out of the system. Now, go play!"

So, she and her six closest friends had joyfully run off through the bowels of the Pentagon, swooping around four star generals and poking their noses into all sorts of classified business. Helen was especially delighted when her running brought her to a surprise.

"Daddy! I thought you were in corridor seven today!" The older man smiled indulgently at his only surviving child. She looked so much like her mother.

"Well, dear, I was, but General Torres here invited me over to his office for coffee, and since that secretary of his, Corporal Dunnes, makes such excellent brew, I'm going over to indulge myself before another round of tedious meetings."

"Oh, okay then. Well, I'd love to stay and chat Dad, General, but I've got to go hide from Mike--he's first to seek today. Bye!" She leaned forward and pecked her father on the cheek.

"Bye dear, have a good day!" And then, because it had become important for him to say it ever since his wife and sons had been killed. "Love you!"

"Love you too, Daddy!" And then she was gone around a corner, in search of the perfect hiding place.

The Pentagon, for those who have never visited, can best be likened to a hybrid between impenetrable citadel and five-sided honey comb. Surrounded by a veritable moat of pavement, it rises off the shores of the Potomac river like a gargantuan volcanic uprising. People tend to underestimate the scale of this building. Thousands of people work in it's five rings and ten floors--for it extends another five stories underground. It is very common for people to use golf carts when traveling through the building, for the central courtyard alone is five acres of grass, gardens and shade trees.

So, when Mr. Hinemura had restricted his charges to two rings between two corridors, that still left quite a bit of room to run around and get lost within. Fortunately, Helen had explored this part of the building before, and knew exactly the place she was looking for. One minute later she'd found it, a safe room hidden in the very walls of the corridor. Swiftly she entered and closed the door, knowing the seams would blend in and be virtually invisible. She turned on the light and settled in to wait, leaning against the polished metal walls.

A minute passed and she heard an alarm go off distantly, several floors above, but it caused her no concern, as alarms were always going off. Unperturbed, she continued waiting, her internal clock ticking off the seconds. Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen. . .seventeen minutes after the first alarm, more alarms went off, and she heard a click from the door.

Click? She thought, and pulled the handle without luck. But why was she locked in? Unless. . .

More alarms went off, and she could hear the running through the hallways increase. Indistict shouts rang through the halls, more running on all the floors she could hear.

What was going on?

She tried accessing the 'Net but, as warned, her access had been cut off. Well, whatever was happening, she had nothing better to do than hack the Pentagon. Besides, the restrictions were more for the seekers than the hiders.

So she sat down and started working through the codes, chanting random-number spells beneath her breath as she worked, to no avail. Dr. Hinemura had designed the techno-mage's programming, so knew best how to keep them locked out of something. And yet, as she worked, she started to notice that the response time to her inquiries was getting slower and slower, as though the overall system were starting to overload. Yet still, she was locked out, and couldn't find a way in.

Time passed unnoticed, save for the ceaseless ticking of her internal clock. An hour had passed since that first alarm, and she had made as yet no progress. She took a deep breath, now pacing the room, readying to dive in once more, when she was knocked to the floor by a sudden concussion. On instinct, she threw up a heat and impact shield, which probably saved her life, as fire exploded all around her, and a burning airplane seat fell through the ceiling and on through the floor.

The moment seemed to last forever, like an endless earthquake heralding the end of the world. But after an interminable time, the shaking quieted, leaving the fires to roar in its stead.

Helen shakily stood, avoiding the gaping holes in the floor, trying to shake of the shock. To her surprise, she was no longer locked out, and she instantly connected to the 'Net, only to fall down again, stunned at what she'd missed. Anguished, she tried to contact the other techno-mages. But Patrick, Sarah, and Talia were no longer responding at all, almost like they not longer existed. Joey was giving nothing but fading static. But she was able to connect to Mike and Morgan.

Instantly images were relayed, and Helen saw why the others weren't responding. Pieces of the former three were scattered through bits of rubble, and Joey had been impaled by a large sliver of glass. She saw too that both Mike and Morgan were pinned beneath massive I-beams, unable to move and growing weaker by the moment.

*Go* they said. *Get out of here while you can!*

Nonono! She replied. I cannot leave my only friends!

Both Michael and Morgan thought she was being stupid, and told her so. They also reminded her that the fires were burning jet-fuel, which would certainly burn hot enough to make at least this part of the building collapse. If she tried to save them, then all of them would die. So she had to leave now, so that at least one could live.

But still she resisted, so Michael and Morgan, with their fading strength, broke the first rule of Techno-magic, and force-hacked her android side, swooping in unexpectedly and reprogramming her against her will.

Helen wept as the new survival programming kicked in, forcing half her limbs to move without her thought.

*Damn it! I don't want to leave you! I have nothing left now!* But Morgan, wise beyond her years, negated this.

*You have the future, Trinny. Carry our memories to the far end of tomorrow for us, and we will--* But Morgan never finished her sentence, slipping away in that last moment.

*Mike!* Helen scrambled blindly over falling debris, through thick choking smoke and scorching heat. *Mike, please don't go! Please, you're my best friend, best friends don't leave each other in times of crisis!*

*Sorry sweetie!* he sent back. *But I don't have any control over this. Wish I could see the future with you, but I'll just have to watch you steal all the glory.*

*Mike!*

*I think, though, if I'd lasted a few more years, I might have liked to marry you one da--*

That sentence too would never be finished. Helen never remembered finally escaping the ruins that day, nor hearing the structure collapse behind her as the records said it did, all she remembered was the horrible pain in her stomach, and the burning in her eyes.

11:03:00 hrs.

The boy looked between the cars, over to the lawns where the survivors were being taken. He was supposed to have taken a tour of the building where his cousin worked today, but just as they were about to walk in, his magic had finally manifested, and he'd thrown a fit, insisting that he heard people screaming and he didn't want to go into the "smoky place." His parents had been chagrined that such a display was happening in front of Muggles, but they'd agreed to take him back to the parking lot until he'd calmed down.

And no sooner had they reached their rental auto than a rather large metal bird had fallen out of the sky and hit the building, sending smoke and fire billowing up into the morning air. Both of his parents were medi-mages, and so they'd left him in the care of his aunt while they ran off to offer help.

So now the boy was lonely, bored despite the fire, and his gaze had been attracted to something shining a little bit away. Looking closer, he saw that the glint had belonged to a person's hand. Yes, there was indeed a young woman with what looked to be a metal arm. As this wasn't something one saw everyday, even in magical household, the boy wondered, clutching his book sack tightly in his small arms.

At first he wondered if no one else noticed the lady because metal people were so common in this strange country, but as he got closer, he saw that she had put a glamour around herself, which made sense. She was sitting on the grass, head held in her hands, tears leaking out between her fingers.

Getting even closer, the boy saw that only part of her was metal, one half it seemed, the other half being completely normal-- and pretty.

He was startled when the lady looked up from her hands and straight at him.

"Hello," she said softly, sniffling. "What a handsome young wizard you are. Are you from around here?"

The boy shifted his feet. "No, Ma'am, I'm visiting from England. My cousin works here and we were going to visit, but stuff happened. . ."

"Ah," she peered at him more closely. "Where are your parents?"

"My Mum's a medi-witch, and my Da's head nurse at St. Gabriel's in Liverpool, so they went to help people."

The lady nodded. "Well then, you stay out of trouble, friend. What shall I call you?"

The boy blushed at having forgotten his manners. It was a good thing his mother wasn't here, or he'd have never heard the end of it. "Todd," he replied. "Todd Silversman."

The lady smiled gently. "People 'round here call me Trinny. Nice ta meetcha." She held out a soot stained hand--the not metal one, Todd noted, as he shook it politely. No sooner had they shaken then he heard his aunt calling him back. He sighed--it was so boring standing over there in the cars.

"Well, looks like you gotta go, pal." Trinny said.

Todd nodded glumly, starting to walk away slowly. He had taken only a few steps before he was struck with a sudden idea, and stopped, dropping his sack. Bending over, he quickly undid the catches and reached in, pulling out two plush velvet angel-bears.

He looked them over carefully, making his decision with care. With a nod, he turned back to Trinny, holding out the red bear, while holding the green one close.

"Here," he said. "This is Ric. He's named after Godric Gryffindor, who was very brave, and it looks like you could use a friend who's brave."

Trinny slowly reached out to take the bear. "Who's his buddy?" She asked.

"Oh, this is Sal, after Salazar Slytherin. . ."

Trinny ran her hand over Ric's soft satin wings. "Are you sure?" She asked, not wanting to deprive a boy of his stuffed bear.

Todd nodded. "I'm sure. I've still got Sal . . . and, well, yeah, I'm sure."

"Thank you." Trinny's voice sounded strained, but his Aunt was calling again.

"Well, I've got to go. It was nice meeting you!"

The techno-witch smiled. "It was nice meeting you, too, Todd."

And with that, the boy hoisted up his sack and ran off to rejoin his family.


15:42:00 hrs.

The screaming had stopped, something for which the techs behind the cracked sound-proof class were glad.

"I thought this glass was supposed to be sound-proof." The grey haired man said.

A tech sighed. "It was supposed to be, but I suppose Northrop-Grumman doesn't have newly psychotic techno-witches in their test centers."

The older man narrowed his eyes. "Newly psychotic? What do you mean by that?"

The tech pointed to a monitor. "See that line? That's a comprehensive chart of cybernetic and brain activity. Got that?"

Nod.

"Right, so here on the left is how it was when she was brought in a little before noon. Very active, because she was observing everything, jumping all over the 'Net, but she was mostly collecting, not really digesting at the time. Now, a little farther on, about one p.m., she diverts some attention from collection to processing-- like, actually looking at what she's brought in. You can the see that the brain activity shoots up, as her human side takes a more active role-- but the cybernetic keeps rising as well and, if you compare this timeline to this other one over here," he pointed to another chart another monitor. "You see that at this same time her respiration, heartbeat, and overall nervous activity skyrockets as well-- basically, she's getting really upset, really fast. Still follow?"

"Sure," The blue eyes beneath the steel-grey hair were tracking everything very closely.

"Ok, now here's where it gets scary. Usually, people reach a certain level of stress and then nature kicks in with some sort of emergency control-- passing out, sickness, sudden fatigue, shock, something to get all of this under control to keep a person from harm. However, for some reason, these responses never kicked in, and so they built on each other exponentially getting higher and higher as the seconds passed."

The older man would have guessed that anyway, if the nearly vertical line on the chart was anything to go by.

"And then," the younger continued. "you see she literally goes off the charts. We don't really know what happened, but she must have reached a breaking point, because when she gets back on the charts, look at what we see."

The older man looked. "More than one line at once," he muttered.

"Exactly. We think that somewhere up there, where we couldn't see, her personality shattered, which would explain the completely divergent and chaotic readings we're getting."

There was a tired sigh from the older man. "Any estimate as to how many personalities we have to deal with?"

The tech shrugged. "At least two, maybe three. But we have no reason to believe there's more. At the moment, at least."

The chart refreshed itself at that moment. The tech gave a small cheer. "Looks like one of the personalities has assumed dominance. This must be why she's quieted down."

The older man looked through the glass again. "Is it safe to go in now?" He asked.

The tech thought for a moment. "For you, Mr. Secretary, I think so, but you might want a sidearm and a handy escape route, just in case it isn't."

The Secretary gave a crooked grin. "Thanks for the advice. If you could, unlock that door please."

"Yes, sir."

After a rather loud click-clunk, the Secretary pushed the door to the other room open, not bothering to close it quite yet.

The techno-witch-- the files named her Helen Mulhulland, known to her friends by her Internet handle Trinity-- was standing in front of the large plexi-glass windows, staring into the distance, where a thin pillar of smoke could be seen on the horizon. She took no outward notice of the Secretary's entrance, but he had no doubt she was tracking his every move very closely.

"Miss Helen Mululland? I am-- "

"I know who you are," she said, finally turning to face him. "You, sir, are a pirate captain."

The older man blinked. He'd been called many things in his life, but that was a new one. "How do you figure?" he asked.

Her grin didn't touch her eyes. "You are brother to Captain Morgan, are you not? Captain Rummy, you are, and you take no prisoners!"

He chuckled, then, understanding. "Ah, yes, quite right, though no one's put it that way before. I'll have to put a new sign on my office door, now."

There was silence then, for a moment.

"So, you're called Trinity? Like the gal in the movie?"

She shook her head. "Trinny's not here, just now. She was so upset, so she's taking a nap for now. She was named Trinity because she was the third techno-mage, long before the movie--though she's quite a fan of that, too."

"So you're not Trinity."

"I'm Helen."

"Alright then, Helen. Well, how would you like to work for the United States Government?"

She turned back to the window. "I thought I already did."

"As a long term test subject, yes. But as an active participant? We've got a special job that needs doing, and we think you are uniquely qualified to take it on."

Another grin curved her lips, this one diamond hard and feral. "Please tell me you want to air-drop me in to Riyadh, that I might deck the golden sands of Arabia with ruby pools. . ."

The Secretary's eyes widened, surprised that she'd already made that connection. "Nooo, not Saudi Arabia--"

"Afghanistan then?"

"Nowhere in the Middle East, Asia, or Africa."

"Booooring. . . " Helen said in a sing song voice, examining the needle like claws on her left hand.

"I don't think so," he replied. "We want you to cover another, very important front."

She raised an eyebrow. "Tell me."

"The U.K."

Helen scowled. "But they're our best friends. . . Why do you want me to kill one of them?"

He rolled his eyes. "I never said anything about killing, you brought that up. It may, in the end, prove necessary, but that's not your mission."

"No killing?" She sighed, turning back to the window, her metal claws slowly scratching the plexi-glass. "What else am I good for now?"

The Secretary held out a small computer chip. "Take a look."

Warily, she reached out, plucking the chip out of his hands and carefully inserting it into a metal finger.

"Harry Potter?" She looked skeptical. "Why is this so important that you're willing to squander all the energy of the only techno-witch left on it?"

The man sighed, finally walking up to join her at the window. "Because the United Kingdom wields power and influence very disproportionate to it's physical size. The last thing we need is for this Voldie-fellow to open up another front for us to worry about, and at the same time take out our closest ally. If Britain falls, so too does all of Europe. And once that happens, the US will follow suit, and be followed by the rest of the world. It is imperative that Britain not fall to Voldemort, and what little intelligence we have on the matter suggests that this Harry Potter is the only one who will ensure that it doesn't. It's in our best interests that he defeat Voldie and survive to fill the gap in power-- and the more mentally and emotionally stable he is, the better."

"So," she said coolly. "You want this boy to defeat one of the most powerful wizards in the world and not be effected by it?"

"Even I know that's impossible." He replied. "What I want is Britain safe and happy, so we can be safe and happy. And the key to that is for Harry to be as relatively safe and happy as possible. We've a vested interest in his continued physical, mental, and emotional health, Helen, and we want you to be our liaison and expert where he is concerned."

Helen turned away from the window, walking over to where a chair was place in a corner, a red velvet angel-bear sitting haphazardly against it's back. She picked it up, and held it tightly, as though it held all the secrets of the universe. She shivered, feeling the damning threads of synchronicity weaving themselves about her. It wasn't just the bear, there were other things, far older, which had suggested this might come in her life.

"It's fine by me, but Trinny also has to agree."


April, 2004--Present Day

Trinity looked at the files in her hand. Sure, she also had the digital copies stored in her memory banks, but her brain could sometimes comprehend things better if it saw the physical.

"Hmm," she muttered to herself. "McNair, Walden. Likes to torture animals and look at pictures of naked children. How absolutely revolting. . ."

It had taken her eighteen months to reprogram the satellites to let them "see" un-plottable places, and then another month to completely cover her tracks so no one, let alone any Muggles, would notice her changes. And then more time making all the connections to start siphoning information about British wizard society, notorious for its isolation from the rest of the world. But she'd finally wormed her way in, and had come very quickly to some important realizations: That the British Minister of Magic was a complete moron, that the Headmaster of Hogwarts was anything but, and that Harry's uncle and cousin were complete losers.

She looked up as one of her tracking alarms went off. Really? Neo-Tokyo had chosen their representative to Hogwarts for the following fall. This will be interesting, between the vampires, the Wolf Nation, and the Children of the Sun. . .excellent, and he plays guitar! Good, we'll need to get together soon . . .

Synapses and processors fired in a complex dance as a thousand thoughts were processed.

The players are selected. Let games begin!