Chapter 487 (1/2)

When Ezekiel was finally released, Hank Howard was standing outside of the Containment Zone, staring down at his watch as if he could peer through it into the spatial pocket dimension and figure out what the gift of the bike meant.

The bike was a clear allusion to his fall from grace. Yet coming from Ghost, who had stripped him of his position as Vanguard Captain and reinstated him as a Sheriff… what did it mean?

Hank looked up to find Ezekiel looking at him with an amused expression.

“Take your time,” Ezekiel said, shrugging as he massaged the spots on his wrists that had been tied with the refined plastic that was all but unbreakable. “I would prefer not to leave this place if I’m being honest. I don’t do well in the outdoors.”

After opening his mouth to release a pithy retort, Hank thought better of it and closed his mouth. It was already all but guaranteed that at least Heath was going to be impossible to deal with. A voice that sounded a lot like Alan convinced him to let this small smartass comment go, for the greater good.

‘Besides,’ Hank thought to himself, eyes flashing, ‘a man like this, in the wild… there will be plenty of time to make up for small slights.’

Not that Hank was a particularly vindictive person, but he would always remember that this man Ezekiel’s first instinct was to pick and belittle. That impression would remain, immaculate and untouched, within Hank’s heart until enough evidence emerged to shift that assessment. Based on the file that he had read through briefly, describing the man, chances of that were slim.

It was just after midnight as Hank had left immediately from Alan’s to head to West Providence and retrieve Ezekiel. The scientists there were so stuck up in their experiments that time of day meant little to them, even less so after the System, when most people only slept one to two hours a day.

Even this much left Hank feeling a certain amount of exasperation, as he hadn’t really felt the need to sleep aside from a bit of personal leisure, and then only once a fortnight for a bit. It was more to reassure the subconscious that had slept ⅓ of its existence up until now. Hank also knew that there were a lot of people that refused to sleep entirely, considering it beneath them. These were inevitably the Tier 3 or 4s, who considered themselves something a little more than human.

The less interaction Hank had with them, the better. Which was why this Heath situation-

Ezekiel looked up sharply, a fraction of a second before Hank’s own pupils dilated at the distant, low thrum of an engine. “We have company.”

Curious, that Ezekiel would detect it before Hank. Perhaps this man would truly be useful on the reconnaissance mission they were assigned to. Even though the chilling vibes given off by the man, despite his smile, convinced Hank that their true purpose was a bit darker than that.

Over the next minute, the engine sounds grew louder, until a humvee roared up toward their location, skidding to a stop inches from Hank. Hank’s eyebrows rose.

The doors on both sides opened, and two men got out.

Someone had apparently worked up the nerves to tell Mordecai Heath he was balding, because his greasy black hair was freshly shaven, giving him a competent, militaristic look. His skin was tanned, but his eyes were beady and dark, full of meanness. His shirt wobbled, holding back his bulging belly, but even Hank wouldn’t underestimate the man for the shape of his body; Hank had no doubt that when the man wanted to move, he would do so, and quickly.

The other man was someone Hank didn’t recognize, but by the jade pin in his collar, he recognized him as a member of the Temple on the Hill. This man was slim and Asian, with expressionless eyes as he examined both Hank and Ezekiel. At his side was a one-handed sword.

“So,” Heath said, his tiny eyes gleeful. “You’ll be working with me for the next few months. What a distinct… pleasure.”

Ezekiel snorted but said nothing. Hank scowled.

“It was ma’ understandin’ that I would be in charge of our little… detachment,” Hank said, letting that old southern anger rise in him.

Heath shrugged, and to Hank’s surprise, snapped his fingers. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

The back of the humvee folded upwards, and a metal platform slid out of the overly large vehicle, containing a power suit. Immediately, Heath leaped forward, as the suit opened up like a blooming flower, and he sank into it. Within seconds, it snapped shut, encasing him in its protective layers.