The Syndicate - 36. Chapter 36 - Taran

Taran and Maya arrived at Control amid a mad flurry of activity. Support staff scrambled around the room, pulling up data on consoles, refreshing satellite feeds, and looking for any information that might help explain Zephyr's disappearance. Despite the chaos, Taran was relieved to see that his mom's incident wasn't going to get swept under the rug like Mariner's had been. He passed Lydia, diligently pouring over the images that flashed across her console screen. She glanced up from the computer, catching Taran's eye and giving him a sympathetic smile.

"Oh, Taran!" She jumped up from her station and pulled him into a tight hug. "First the infirmary, and now this! Are you okay?"

"I'm recovered, I think," he replied, trying not to wince in her embrace. "How are things going here?"

"We're pretty much locked down at the moment; Code Orange until further notice. Maya and I were only given clearance to stay because we reported the anomaly."

"Speaking of which, I've got to get back to work and see if there's anything I can do to help," Maya said softly. "If there's any news, you'll be the first to know." She peeled off to join Lydia at a console.

Taran found his father at the front of the room, receiving a briefing from a senior Control official. He quietly approached and watched Warren scour through data on a tablet, nodding along to the analyst's words. His father was exuding a kind of manic, uneasy energy and not the signature confidence he was known for. Crimson Cosmonaut was truly rattled, and Taran forbade himself from thinking about what that meant for his mother's chances of survival.

"Dad…" Taran managed to choke out.

Warren's eyes snapped up to Taran, wide with surprise. "Taran, I had no idea you were out of the infirmary!" He handed the tablet back to the analyst and pulled his son aside. "What's going on with you? Doctor Peters mentioned something about a manifest?"

"I can explain later, but that's obviously not important right now!" Taran gestured around the room. "What's happened to Mom?"

"So you've heard," The corners of Warren's mouth curled downward. "From Huang? Or was it Stanton?"

Taran paused. Shit. He wasn't about to get the girls in trouble, so he stood his ground. "Mom was supposed to be home already, and then you practically exploded on reentry above headquarters. I put the clues together."

"You don't have the clearance for this, son."

"Well then, consider this my formal request."

Warren's jaw flexed, the dark red cowl tightening against his cheekbones. Taran knew he was pushing his luck, but he was too tired and angry to care. He was not going to be left in the dark, not about this.

"Agent Quinn," Warren called the analyst. "Promote Silver Cyclone to Security Level A, effective immediately." He turned back to Taran, "Come with me."

Taran's father strode across the command center towards a sturdy bronze double door at the room's front corner. The doors slid open as he approached, and he motioned to Taran to follow. With a gulp, Taran stepped inside, the doors closing behind him with a heavy thud.

The room was dark; the only light source was a white globe hung above the large, circular table. A series of tall high-backed chairs were set around it, each one reaching up toward the high ceiling. In any other situation, Taran would have been losing his mind. This was Central Command, where strategies for the world's greatest threats were formulated and voted on by the inner circle. Taran had never been inside before, but it was exactly how he imagined it.

"Have a seat, son."

Taran fell into the closest chair and tried not to feel small. To his surprise, a couple of the other chairs were already occupied. The hero to his right was a broad, incredibly strong-looking Asian man. He wore a dark leather uniform with no sleeves, revealing the stony grey scales covering his arms. Taran met the man's eyes, which glinted red in the dim room.

"Iron Dragon," he said. The man nodded silently in response.

The man to Taran's left could not have been a greater contrast. Small and frail, he wore a dusty green robe that glittered with ancient silver symbols. Taran's heart swelled at the sight of him. Centuries ago, The Green Man had been blessed by the spirit of an earth elemental, giving him command over the essence of nature, as well as immortality. He was one of the world's first heroes and literally the subject of legends. Most importantly, he had been a mentor to Avani when she was young and a surrogate grandfather to her children. Taran was thrilled to see him but also deeply troubled. If the leaders of the Japan and UK headquarters were in Liberty City, this threat was more significant than he had been told.

Crimson Cosmonaut took a seat at the opposite end of the table. "Your mother isn't the second hero to go missing," he said, pulling the red cowl away from his face. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and Taran was shocked at how worn down he looked. "She's the seventh."

"Seventh?!" Taran exclaimed, and his father gestured to the other two in the room. "We've had disappearances in Europe and Asia as well. Whatever is happening, it's not centralized to just North America."

"What do we know?"

Iron Dragon spoke. "While we haven't determined a pattern amongst the locations of each incident, timing-wise, they appear to coincide with the phases of the moon. Every new moon, to be exact. What's more, the hero who vanishes always does so after resolving what should have been a major disaster. A sinking ship, an earthquake—"

"An exploding oil rig...," Taran gasped. The older heroes nodded. He continued asking questions. "Are these events related? Have we been able to determine a common cause?"

"That's part of the mystery. None of these events are similar enough to determine a common link. We also don't have evidence to rule out either scientific or mystical origins."

"Maya may be able to help... She channeled something a few weeks back. There was a warning, too, but we haven't been able to figure it out."

"When was this?" The Green Man asked.

"Just before Mariner disappeared. Whatever got Maya that night had dark energy off the charts. She hasn't had an episode since, though."

Warren frowned, and Taran recognized his hesitation. Magical forces were one of Crimson Cosmonaut's few weaknesses. If it turned out the cause of all this was otherworldly, he would be at a significant disadvantage.

Taran shifted nervously in his seat. Something still wasn't adding up, and he was afraid he'd never get another chance to ask. "I just don't understand how this could have happened. How did things get this out of control?"

"Truthfully," Green Man sighed, "We were caught unawares. The first to disappear wasn't a Syndicate hero but a non-powered vigilante. The next few were so geographically separated there was no reason to suggest a connection. It wasn't until Mariner that we discovered the pattern."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Taran asked.

"I believe there may be," Iron Dragon replied, turning to Crimson Cosmonaut.

"Takeshi, be reasonable!" Warren exclaimed.

"Warren, this is an opportunity."

"I agree," Green Man added. "And we must move quickly."

Warren looked to each of the heroes, and whatever fight he had left seemed to dissipate. He then turned to his son, eyes brimming with an emotion that Taran barely recognized. Was it sadness? Worry?

"Taran, I need you to assemble a team," Crimson Cosmonaut spoke softly and with none of his usual bravado. "We need to keep the situation under wraps for a little while longer. Whoever is behind this can't know that we're on to them because if they go underground, we'll never find our missing heroes. And if the public got word that a team of heavy hitters was on a mission, or worse, that some have gone missing… well, they'd lose all faith in us."

"I understand," Taran replied nervously, sure that his father could hear his heart hammering. "Any suggestions on who I should approach?"

"I agree that Maya would be an asset. She has the experience and is one of the few heroes in Liberty City with a strong enough connection to supernatural entities. As for the others, what about the strike team you've been working with?"

"Dad, they're trainees! They're not ready for something like this."

"I disagree," Iron Dragon chimed in. "I've read your training reports. Their progress has been steady, and the team is well balanced. They are ready for a challenge."

"And at any rate," Warren added, "You have a month to get them ready."

Taran sat at the edge of his chair. A barrage of thoughts raced in his mind, and he fought to push the scariest ones away. Were they really about to send a team of untested trainees out to battle an unknown threat? How could a squad of teenagers succeed where Mariners and Zephyr had failed? Taran steeled himself against the self-doubt and thought about his mother: lost and desperately needing rescue. If his father of all people was entrusting him with the mission, Taran wasn't going to give him any reason to regret it.

"Okay. I'll get the team ready," Taran fought to keep the tremor in his chest out of his voice. "But they're going to need everything. Uniforms, and a bypass to provisional status."

"Always the regulations with you, isn't it?" Warren's shoulders relaxed, and Taran thought he noticed a stifled smile. "We will take care of the red tape; you just make sure they're prepared. Report back in three and a half weeks. By then, the inner circle will have finished formulating our plan." Crimson Cosmonaut stood away from the table. "You have your orders, son. Dismissed."

Taran left the senior heroes to their planning, the doors of Central Command hissing shut behind him. Numbness in the pit of his stomach grew as he made his way toward the elevator down the hall. Reality had set in. Taran took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves and switched on his earpiece.

"Silver Cyclone to Control."

"This is Control."

"I need a Level 4 bulletin to Sister Shadow, Battle Cat, and Phosphra. Include Lydia Stanton in Mission Ops on the communication as well."

"Very well, Silver Cyclone," the voice on the line was almost infuriatingly neutral. "What's the message for the bulletin?"

"Mandatory Meeting in Training Room A, 0700 hours."

"Message transmitted."

"Thank you. Cyclone out." Taran tapped the comm to disconnect, waited a moment, and pressed it again.

"Silver Cyclone to Rampart, private channel." There was a pause as the automated system connected him.

"Ack, this is Rampart!" Ronnie's voice rang out. "Hello?"

"Ronnie, it's me."

"Oh hey," Ronnie's voice immediately relaxed. "Sorry, I'm still not used to having this thing in my head. How are things going with your dad?"

"Meet me in the Garden. We need to talk."