"I'll catch you on the flip side as they used to say." She was the first to drop comms. The rest of the members of Blue Shield soon followed suit, saying their goodbyes.
One-by-one they left Independence Port where they had just finished up a successful campaign against the Council. Eventually it was just the big troll, Magmauler left on the train platform. He cocked his head to the side listening to the destination of the incoming train, Brickstown, and smiled.
Stepping off the train he exited the station and leaped into the air, heading towards the gates to Crey's Folly. The guards at the gate simply waved the big officer through without issue.
Striding into the once prosperous industrial area, Magmauler leaped onto one of the catwalks around a set of abandoned storage silos. Thirty feet in front of him a company of Nemesis troops turned to address the intruder.
Slugs flew through the air, deflecting off the troll's tough skin. Charging forward he swept three of the soldiers off the walkway, watching as they fell fifty feet to parking lot below. A heavy punch sent another sprawling to his back, and a vicious kick left another clutching a broken leg.
A burst of flame engulfed the troll, to the delight of the remaining Nemesis soldiers. They cheered as the massive Warhulk doused the police officer in burning napalm. Their cheer was short-lived.
Magmauler leaped forward tearing the flamethrower arm from the massive robot, using it to crush one soldier, and batting the last two from the catwalk. The flamethrower clanked as it fell to the metal walkway and the troll turned on the Warhulk.
Turning, the massive troll grabbed holding of the mech and hoisted it into the air, holding it overhead for a moment. Then with a might yell he hurled it to the street below, watching it burst into flames with a wide-eyed look of fury on his face.
The video was paused, leaving his face on the screen as the three men assembled looked on in silence. The video and sound from the surveillance drone had been surprisingly high quality.
Seated behind his desk, Chief Conrad Bochco leaned forward and rested his hands on the desk, "So he takes down some Nemesis soldiers. Big deal. Those butchers have it coming. He's a little rough, but so what? That's why he's there."
One of the other two men, Dr. Karl Lenkoff, stood and moved to take the DVD from the machine. "It's more than that. You know it Conrad. You saw the look in his eyes." He looked to the third man in the room, "It's what we saw when he first came in from his undercover work."
Bill Grove, head of Internal Affairs, nodded at the doctor's comments. "Look Chief, we've got a problem here. Luckily we might just be able to head it off before it gets out of control."
The doctor flipped on the lights, bathing the room in the harsh glow of fluorescent light. “From what I can tell, it's his adrenal gland that is the problem. While we were able to purge the Superadyne from his system, the drug irrevocably altered his adrenaline. As he exerts himself more and more, the adrenaline is acting like the drugs used to. He's losing himself to the monster he once was.”
Chief Bochco mulled that over for a moment, “So, what can we do?”
“Well, we've been looking at a few ways to alter the gland, make it less toxic. It might also be possible to replace it, or remove it, but I'm not confident that either of those options will be good for the patient's future health. Medication might help, but we haven't found anything we feel would provide a permanent solution.”
“So you see Conrad,” Grove spoke, his irritating nasally voice grating on the chief's nerves, “there are a few alternatives, and I hope they work. I really do. But if they don't, we've got to be prepared to handle the situation.”
The chief stood right up, sending his chair rattling into the wall behind him. Slamming one hand down on the desk he pointed at the head of IA with the other. “Handle the situation Bill!? That's one of my officers you're talking about. You best remember that.”
“Yes, one of 'your' officers Conrad, and if he goes nuts and kills someone in the field, a civilian god forbid, that'll be on you.”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” the doctor tried his best, as always to be the voice of reason. “We need to keep our heads here if we're to find a way through this.”
The chief took a deep breath, back down a little, the colour leaving his face. “Worst case scenario doc?”
Karl flipped through the folder he'd brought in with him. “Given the gains Detective Hiller has been making in strength and invulnerability, I very much doubt the team would be able to stop him if an incident were to occur. Likewise, hardsuits and normal officers would be ineffectual. Psi-Division and Awakened Division would be the best bet, but even then the odds would not be good of escaping without casualties.”
“Christ,” Conrad sat back in his chair, leaning back, “it would be a goddamned disaster, is what you're saying. I can't have cops killing cops.”
Grove spoke again, “That's why the good doctor brought this to our attention. We need to work on finding a way to help Mr. Hiller, and have a plan in place in case we can't.”
As much as it pained Conrad to admit, the ******* was right, “Agreed. I'll have to let Detective Washington know, and the rest of the team. They deserve to know.”
The others nodded as they left the room, leaving the chief alone to ponder the potentially disastrous situation, as he stared down at the DVD on his desk.
Planning an arc for Mags in the nearish future.