Blood Sisters
Chapter 1

Cricketwas mad. Slowly, she got to her feet. Her torn dirty street clothesand tangled blonde hair were now even more of a mess then usualStill-numb muscles responded sluggishly and under considerableprotest. She steadied her 15 year old body, replaceing her footing andlooked up. A short distance away there was a man in a black jumpsuitand body armor, groaning on the ground. Near his outstretched handwas a device that resembled a large remote control, with two thinwires that spiraled out the top, snaked across the pavement, then upinto the air to where they were planted in Cricket's chest likeharpoons.

Witha grimace she pulled out the thick sharp barbs. They had only barelypenetrated her armor-like flesh, but it was enough to take her down."That HURT," she breathed, walking with zombie stepstowards the man. He was still groaning, barely conscious, bleedingfreely from where his head had scraped across the pavement. Behindhim was a small red car covered in more Bondo then paint. It had anoticeable dent right in the middle of the grille. Tangled on thefront bumper was the man's squawking communications headset, stillconnected to the man's equipment belt by a thick black cord. Thedriver of the car was a young man with long windblown hair. He wasstanding next to the car in shock. "Oh my gawd! Hey are youokay, dude?!" He looked down at the man in black, horrified."Dude.. oh god... dude, are you a cop or something?" Thedriver knelt down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. The mangroaned again. "Are you okay, dude?!" Just a grunt inresponse. "Hey, help! HELP! I just hit this dude, I think he's acop!" The young man was yelling into the air, an edge of panicand desperation giving added weight to his plea.

"He'sno cop!" Cricket spat with venom.

Shehad almost reached where the man lay, still walking with awkwardslowness. The young driver looked up, seeing Cricket for the firsttime. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted as someonebarked a sharp command "One-Eight-Seven, step AWAY from theagent!" Cricket turned her head to see another man in black...taking aim with another remote control. "Sir!" The agentcommanded the young driver. "Get out of there, she isdangerous!" With that, the agent had gotten close enough andactivated his remote. Two harpoons shot out of the device towardsCricket. They flew fast and true, but not fast enough. This timeCricket dodged them, the wires arcing over her shoulder as sheducked. The harpoons hit a concrete building behind her, penetratingthe wall until they were well out of sight, leaving two crackedholes. A puff of blue smoke came out as the device delivered itscharge uselessly into the structure.

Cricketreached the man and grabbed him by his Kevlar vest, her fingerstearing easily into the fabric. The man gasped and looked at the girlin horror. Cricket, numb, afraid, angry and in pain, reactedviolently, lifting the man into the air and throwing him across thestreet. The agent cried out in alarm as he tumbled through the air.He flew over the traffic that had stopped to witness the spectacle onthis side of the divided city street, over the median, over thetraffic on the far side until he came to an abrupt stop when his bodycrashed into a city transit bus on the opposite side of the road. Themetal side of the bus caved in and the windows exploded out of theirframes, showering over the street and into the bus like a thousandrazorblades, cutting faces, hands and arms of the passengers. Theagent stayed implanted in the side of the bus where he impacted, atthe center of a metal and glass crater. He let out a single gasp ashis life left him. His neck was at a twisted, unnatural angle and hisbody was broken, frozen in a lifeless scarecrow pose.

Cricketsaw what she had done and stared wide eyed at the man and the bus.Fearful cries of the injured passengers echoed across the street. Shefelt sick inside as she saw the man's corpse leak bloody tears fromthe eyes in his crushed head. Her throat tightened and her eyesstung. "Holy... hey... you KILLED that dude!" Cricket heardthe red Bondo car driver yelling at her. She turned to glare at him,feeling sick and ashamed. The young man paled, then turned and ranfor his life, fearing he was next. Cricket just watched him go, thenturned away, feeling sicker. People were starting to call out to thepassengers on the bus, rushing to help them. A few people who sawwhat happened were looking across the wide street, pointing atCricket and then turning to each other with disbelief and shock.Cricket could not hear what they were saying, but the look on theirfaces told her all she needed to know.

Thesickness in her gut was like a cold rock, weighing down everythinginside her. Cricket felt tears starting to come. She was still notrecovered from the jolt the first agent had delivered to her. Shestumbled down into the subway, breaking the view of her accusers. Shesought refuge below the streets, the squeal of train brakes belowdrowning out the echoes of tragedy above.

***

Ina parking place a short distance away was a black Cadillac DTS.Inside there was a spooky man with a sharp crew cut, sunglasses and ablack suit. He watched with a dignified frown as the youngshort-haired blond girl ran down into the subway. With a dry sigh hepressed a button on his armrest and his face disappeared behind atinted rear passenger window. The man tapped a communicator earpieceand spoke in a low flat tone. “Get me Welkowitz, the 1-8-7situation has gotten too public, and we need bigger guns.”

Thespooky man sighed into the muted sound of the car. He was looking atthe back of a much larger man who was sitting in front of himlistening to a quiet sports news-show brodcast. The top of his headbrushing the ceiling of the car. There was several long moments ofsilence between them, the radio show droned on in the background. Thesmaller man started tapping his fingers on his armrest as hispatience wore out. He finally spoke to the big agent. “So, you wereright”. “Mmhmm.” “Its OK you can say it.” “Nope.” “Weneeded more then four agents.” “Yup.” “...” “Hows yourteam doing?” “Better then us.” “How long you going to dothis?” “What time is it?” “Five past Four.” “Little bitlonger then.” “You know what? You're fired.” “Fine, then youcan drive your own skinny ass home.” “Good point.” “Mmhmm.”“Lets go get some coffee, then head back for debrief.”

Thebig man started the Caddy and pulled out into traffic. The sounds ofsirens and frenzy drifted into the shaded windows as the good peopleof the city came together to manage the scene across from the agents.He deftly drove away from the chaos, safe into the anomymity of rushhour. The big man said “I hear they are going to be issuing us somebullet-proof sunglasses soon.” “Only bullet-resistant actually,they're made in China.” “CHINA?! Well, shit, guess I'll have toavoid gettin' shot in the head then.” “You're out of luck, no onecould miss a head that big.” “What time is it now?” “Foureighteen.” “Mmhmm.” The big man turned right unexpectedly, justmaking the light. “Hey, the coffee place was down there...”“Yup.” “A little bit longer then.” “Little bit.”