Protector's Investigations

At SFO:
After Dr. McBain and Odyssey vanish in a golden flash, Agent Kestler turns to Protector, the expression on her face one of frustration and almost perfectly concealed rage. "This is not really the time to discuss this," she says, watching her team wrestle Thermond's body into Sherman. "But if you have a few minutes, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something? I would appreciate any insights you might have. I know it's almost three in the morning, but if you get some time tomorrow, would you please call me and we could have lunch or something? Here's my card." She hands Protector a white business card embossed with the PRIMUS logo and the text:

Assault Agent Terry Kestler PRIMUS Investigations (415) 332-7837 ext. 297 kestler@primus.gov

"Sure thing, Agent Kestler," Protector nods, and looks at the team preparing Thermond for transport. "You'll probably need a lunch break; you'll still be doing paperwork on this bust at noon tomorrow." he says matter-of-factly without looking at her.

"Don’t I know it," she sighs. "Thanks."

Stepping behind the curtain, Shawn lays eyes on Carol for the first time in days. A short, red-haired, doctor is cleaning and bandaging the gash in her head, while an older doctor watches. Though still in her boxer shorts, she is wearing a PRIMUS jacket as well. Rushing over, he takes Carol's hand, "Thank God, you're OK. Wow, you don't know how good it is to see you!"

"You don't know how good it is to be seen!" she replies. "Who were those wackos anyway? The PRIMUS guys weren't very talkative at all. Seemed pissed off about something."

"Some kind of weird cult," he shrugs. "I'm sure we can find out more about it later, after you get out of the hospital."

"She's out right now." said the young doctor, stepping back, her work completed. "Change the bandage in a couple of days, or if it gets wet or dirty, and no head-banging for a few weeks." The two physicians moved off together, leaving them.

"I called Mom and Dad and told them you were OK, but you'd see them tomorrow. You need your rest."

"Thanks..." she replied, seeming very tired, now that the doctor was gone. They headed out, Shawn convincing her to sleep at his place, since hers was still a wreck. She went right to sleep, and so did he, the late night museum vigil finally catching up to him.

The alarm screamed at 6 am, and he tossed his legs over the side of the bed with a grunt. He picked up the phone and called Greta's voicemail, explaining that his sister had been rescued from the kidnappers, and he would be taking the day to make sure she was OK, and to help her fix up her place. "If anything pressing comes up, call my cell or leave a message and I'll work it Saturday. Thanks Greta. Catch some bad guys."

He crept into the hall and peeked into his bedroom, seeing Carol fast asleep in his bed. Moving on tiptoes, he made his way back to the kitchen and started some coffee and toast.

Their parents showed up at 7:30, and both had to go peek at Carol to satisfy themselves she was really all right. They sat in the kitchen and chatted about various things.

At 10 AM he excused himself and went to the den. He picked up the phone and dialed up the number on the card Kestler had given him. It only rang once.

"Kestler."

"Good Morning, Agent Kestler. This is," Shawn suddenly catches himself and lowers his voice a bit, "Protector. Um, did you still want to get together and discuss that case?" After a brief exchange they decide to meet at Bill’s Place – a popular hamburger joint on Clement Street -- at noon.

Carol had still been asleep when he left, telling his parents the truth; he had to go meet someone from PRIMUS about a case. He pulled his Bronco into the parking lot and locked it up as he got out. He was dressed in dark pants, a blue shirt with a dark blue tie, and a light jacket to conceal his firearm resting comfortably under his left arm. Bill’s Place was busy, it being lunch on a Friday. He had counted on it being that way, so they would be able to talk in relative anonymity. He spotted Kestler easily as he entered, and walked over to join her.

"Agent Kestler," he says in a low voice, getting her attention. "Its good to finally meet you out of the office," he says as he takes a seat with her at a table in the back courtyard. "Figured we'd be more able to talk if I dressed down," he explains, and extends his hand to her, "Shawn."

Though the young PRIMUS agent’s eyes are tired, she smiles warmly as she shakes his hand. "Thanks for coming, Shawn" she says. "And please call me Terry."

A waitress soon arrives to take their orders – the slender agent orders an old fashioned milkshake, a deluxe hamburger and fries, and onion rings to boot. "I’m just starving, Nicole," she says as the waitress shakes her head. To Shawn she adds, "I finished up around 5 this morning, but ten minutes after I fell asleep, we had a false alarm about a dragon attack in Chinatown. Thank God I have this weekend off!"

"Protec-er, Shawn," she says. "Do you mind if I'm blunt? There are a few individuals in PRIMUS who are aware of what happened to you several months ago. PRIMUS had been called out on the Kidman manhunt, and two agents one of which was myself – saw what happened to you. A fog came up suddenly, surrounded you, and this ghostly woman's form about fifteen feet tall!-- appeared just as you disappeared. After about a minute, you showed up again in different clothes and not in a mood to talk, from what we observed. When a guy named Protector’ who looked just like the guy from the 40s started making local appearances, I investigated it. Only I, Agent Ralston, and Maria know this," she says.

"The reason I wanted to talk to you was to inquire about Knightblade," she says, keeping her voice low. "PRIMUS has reason to suspect that he may be involved in extra-legal activities. Have you seen anything suspicious?"

Shawn raises his eyebrows and takes a deep breath as he settles back in the chair. "Well," he says as he turned things over in his mind, "I'm not sure what to say, Terry." It sounded odd to him as he called the agent by her given name for the first time. "I first ran across him just after the incident at the Curran. Maria was there, but I don't think he met her then."

He takes a drink of water. "He showed up to help us out when we went out to that old mansion - both Maria and the Golden Avenger were there. He cut out after that and I hadn't seen hide nor hair of him until he showed up at the airport looking like he'd been sleeping on the street for a week."

"I guess I did wonder where a researcher got that fancy suit of armor, and how he got away with carrying around military-strength hardware like that," Shawn confesses, "without working for the government, I mean." He liked Kestler quite a bit. She was a pro, and not someone he would consider likely to go off at nothing. If she had a beef with McBain, there was a reason. And if McBain was some kind of saboteur, Shawn wanted as much as anyone for it to come out. If McBain had nothing to hide, he would be fine.

"I'd like to help you out more," he says truthfully, "but I really don't know him much. I do know he works for Metahuman Research Corporation, and one of the scientists there is a friend of his. Dr. Amory. I also recall that he made a phone call or two from that Nob Hill apartment kidnapping scene, which may or may not turn up anything. Oh, and he gave me this," he reaches into his wallet and produces a card which reads:

Tyler McBain
Researcher
Metahuman Research Corporation

On the back of the card in blue ink is a phone number, labelled 'home'. "But I never did call him. I," he pauses to select his words, "Well I don't really have a good reason, but he just kind of rubbed me the wrong way. Pushy I guess," he says with a half shrug.

"I think that's all I can tell you. Is there anything you can tell me?"

Terry bends her head to sip her drink and in the same motion, scrutinizes everyone in the outdoor patio. "Were you aware that MRC had the contract to design PRIMUS equipment?"

"No," his interest piques. "No, I didn't."

"Well, McBain was the primary designer for that. Some of the Chinatown gangs have recently been using PRIMUS equipment. At least that was what we thought, and why the SFPD wanted us to investigate. Cops got better things to do than get killed, right?"

"That's what the SFPD keeps telling us at the Bureau," he says lightly.

"But once I started looking into it, I realized that they were using the redesigned PRIMUS equipment. It hasn't even gone into production yet, or even finished testing! Even closer examination in the lab showed that many of the pieces carried options which McBain had tried to get approval for and couldn't. We initially thought the designs been stolen, but there's been no report made. His behavior has become erratic, and the amount of time he's been spending in the lab doesn't jibe with his current work load. And now McBain is a primary suspect. Please let me know if you see anything, Shawn," she says.

Shawn can't believe what he's hearing. *Gangs* with the latest PRIMUS issue weapons? Shawns brow furrows. "I'll keep my eyes peeled, Terry. Definitely." He considers McBain for a few moments, wondering what could motivate a man to sell out his country. He can't imagine.

"Well his time away from the lab is easy to explain if he's running around in that powered suit part time. And I guess its easy to explain where he got the powered suit now. It must be from MRC as well. He couldn't have made off with it without someone noticing," Shawn is following a line and keeps going. "So if we know he stole the armor - after all, he certainly didn't buy it - then it would lend credence to the charges against him. The fact that no report was forthcoming about that either, may indicate that someone besides McBain is also involved. Of course he could have faked some kind of accident to cover the theft of the materials he needed, but that should be easy to discover if its the case. Either way he definitely did something out of line, even if you don't count just the plain fact that he has something like that in the first place." Shawn had an odd thought. "Are we sure he's only Knightblade? I mean, could he have another suit, maybe different looking, in which he's carrying on... other activities?"

"I see where you're going with this, Shawn," she says. "But we're aware of the origin of the armor, and we know that McBain designed it explicitly for himself; it's not stolen. Whether there are other copies of it around, we don't know, but we haven't seen any yet."

"Are the weapons recovered on the street the prototype models, or new ones built by someone else from the PRIMUS designs? How hard is it to build one of those PRIMUS guns, anyway? Do you need to get your hands on any special kinds of materials to do it?"

"Very difficult to build," she says. "But that's really all I can say about that."

The food comes just as they reach the end of their discussion of McBain and his possible crimes, but there is one more thing nagging at Shawn about Kestler's opening remarks.

"I'd like to know a little more, well actually Id like to know everything possible, about what you saw in the woods that night, Terry." He clears his throat, careful not to let his memories creep into his voice. "Something happened to me, and I'm trying desperately to figure out what it was... and why. What exactly did you see?"

"I'm sorry, but that's really all I know," she says.

In Chinatown:

"Here’s your coffee," Greta says, closing the car door behind her. "I can’t believe there’s a Starbucks right down the street from here. I mean, this is the middle of Chinatown. I remember when there weren’t even any ATMs here."

"Yeah," says Shawn, thinking how the area looked in 1939. "Me too."

"Any movement in the store yet, Crawford?" she asks, sipping her coffee – straight black coffee, Shawn knows by now. His partner is absolutely no nonsense – except for that women’s soccer league she belongs to.

"Nope, not yet. Guess the buyer’s late." The FBI had joined with PRIMUS in staking out Su Sag Electronics, a small shop owned by a Chinese couple on Washington Street. The FBI car was parked in the Old Chinatown Lane. The buildings – three and four stories – blocked out what little light there was from the moon. Now about 1:30 in the morning, music still blared from up the street at Li Po, one of the city’s weirdest bars. "What took you so long, anyway?"

Greta looks embarrassed out of the corner of Shawn’s eye. "Ah, just window shopping. There’s a cute antique shop a few alleys up the hill."

"I can’t believe we’re doing PRIMUS’ dirty work again," she says after a moment. "Fourth time this month! It’s bad enough they’re always whining about how we step on their jurisdiction, but they send their internal problems our way, too. This is not how I wanted to spend my Sunday night – creating a target rich environment for VIPER."

"They’re only supposed to get involved in weapons charges if there’s a guarantee that paranormal terrorists are involved in buying, selling, or possession," Shawn shrugs. "They’re not sure this time." Still, he thinks, it looks damning, especially if Knightblade was involved. The weapons PRIMUS had found out that someone – probably Knightblade – was selling to the Chinatown gangs had been traced to Su Sag. The jurisdiction was sticky, though – Chinatown drug and gun runners were the FBI’s game, but VIPER was PRIMUS’. Which was why there were agents from both agencies stationed around Su Sag in various capacities, waiting for whomever the buyer of the weapon prototypes would be.

The wait wasn’t long indeed. After a few moments, a green Jaguar pulls up. "That’s a Gekko," Shawn’s radio crackles. "Let PRIMUS take it and the agent out, then we’ll go in." Several minutes pass as the men from the previously silent store begin transferring boxes into the Jag’s trunk.

The PRIMUS agents don’t wait long before moving – the assault agents rapidly secure the car and its occupant, in addition to the perps from the store. Silver Avenger Chow yawns loudly as she strides towards the boxes. "Yeah – this is it, Richardson," she calls out to the FBI’s Special Agent in Charge of this operation. She pulls a PRIMUS stun baton out of the box with one gloved hand and shakes her head disgustedly before tossing it back in.

Greta and Shawn leave the car after PRIMUS gives the all-clear on Su Sag, and begin heading out on Richardson’s order, and into the store. "Looks like they found their prototype equipment," Greta says.

"What a crappy day, and not even any VF-1 to be seen," Shawn thinks he hears the Silver Avenger mutter under her breath as they pass her in the street. When she speaks again, though, her voice sounds chipper. "OK, guys, I’ll just meet you at the base. Just truss up Slappy the happy VIPER, Thompson, and we’ll question him back there. You read him his rights yet?" At his nod, she turns and gets into a red Honda del Sol, and starts the engine. "Turning Japanese" blares from the radio, and she guns the engine, pulling away from the curb and down the steep incline.

Early surveillance reports had indicated what they’d find inside – weapons, computers, and all sorts of electronics. A swarm of federal agents descend on the three room store, and begin gathering evidence. "Anything good?" Greta asks after about thirty minutes.

Just as he’s about to say, "Nope," something catches Shawn’s eye – a trampled business card, which reads:

Helena Amory, MD, Ph.D
Associate Dean, Department of Paranormal Medicine
University of California, San Francisco
(415) 786-6077
amory@med.ucsf.edu

The Next Morning...

It was early. Shawn had dressed quickly in his costume and paused only long enough to make one phone call before heading out on his Harley into the cool morning. Of course he had gotten her voice mail and left a message:

"Hi, Cassie, this is Shawn Crawford. I don't know if you remember me. We met during the party, and spoke in the exhibit hall. I was the one sitting on that fish-knobbed thing. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that you can call me if you need help - with any of the problems that seem to have cropped up. My cell number is 909-2134. Take care."

Protector stepped into the lobby of the medical school annex at UCSF campus. Since he was off duty, he wanted to check out Amory and her connection to Knightblade as Protector. It was pretty important that he get as much info as possible before PRIMUS showed up and spooked her into silence.

"Good Morning," he says to the young girl at the desk. "Where would I find Doctor Helena Amory?" Flustered and blushing, the seventeen year old gives a few directions and Protector is off, navigating his way through the confusing network of the medical school and hospital complex. After a few false turns he arrives at the Department of Paranormal Medicine. An older woman sits at a desk in the front. Behind her, a hallway leads back to the offices.

"Hello, is Dr. Amory in?"

The woman raises her eyebrow, "Yes, but she's quite busy right now. Is she expecting you?"

Protector thinks, "No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!" but says, "No."

"Just one moment," she says, and Protector steps back into the waiting area, looking over the pictures on the wall. In the expected short time she says, "If you'll come with me, sir?"

Amory's 'office' is a square room with two long tables in an L-shape along the walls. On them are four computers. Two chairs, apart from the one she sits in, are pushed against one wall. A large dry-erase board is crammed with scrawled scientific formulas which Protector recognizes only the very basics of. An overhead bookshelf encircles the room, full of texts and loose-leaf notebooks, and three other shelves on the wall directly over her main workstation contain even more ponderously heavy and long-named tomes.

"Hello, Dr. Amory," he says as he steps in and she stands to greet him. "I'm Protector."

"Good morning," she says, shaking his hand. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Protector looks over to see the receptionist still lingering in the hall, and casually pushes the door shut.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions about Knightblade. How well do you know him?"

She smiles slightly, then looks Protector in the eyes. "I don’t know Knightblade well at all," she says. "Except that he’s a patient here. If you’re inquiring about his condition, it’s the same as announced at the press conference -- serious but stable." She picks up a pad of paper and hands it to him. "We’ve restricted the floor he’s on – only medical personnel are allowed. However, if you’d like to leave a message, I’ll make sure that he gets it."

"That's not really why I'm here," he says, thinking that he made a mistake coming here as Protector at all. Amory doesn't seem very friendly, and she certainly doesn't seem extremely concerned for Knightblade - at least any more than professionally - so his hope that Amory might know more seems to be evaporating rapidly. 'Well,' he thinks, 'when all else fails, tell the truth.'

"Dr. Amory, you probably don't know this, but there's been some speculation that Knightblade might have been involved in some kind of illegal activities. It's certainly not the first thing I want to believe, but I have to check it out to be sure. I am doing my best to disprove it." Shawn very much hopes he will find the evidence disprovable. Kestler seems to think its a lock-up, and the Gekko agent had been a bad sign, but hadn't VIPER tried their best to make sure Knightblade was dead at the museaum? Still, Shawn's mind keeps putting the evidence in both lights, though. Maybe the VIPER Mech was sent to silence Knightblade now that he was under suspicion and of no further use to VIPER. He wants to talk to Knightblade.

"What I'd really like to do is get Knightblade to tell me what really is going on. Give him the chance to explain some of the circumstantial evidence against him." Shawn hopes Amory will listen. PRIMUS is certainly beyond giving the armored hero the benefit of the doubt. Protector figures he might be one of the few people in the man's corner who could help, but he isn't sure how long he can stay in Knightblade's corner if the evidence keeps coming like this. Normally Shawn would stand by his friends no matter what, but he realizes that he doesn't know Knightblade well enough to be sure of the man.

"Can I talk to him?"

The slight woman shakes her head. "No, I’m sorry, but we’re restricting all non-family visitors."

"May I?" Protector picks an envelope up off of the desk and a yellow pad. He takes out a business card and folds it up inside the yellow paper, then places it inside the envelope and seals it. "This is the number of a contact of mine. He can get hold of me in a pinch. Could you give this to Knightblade as soon as he's awake. If he wants to talk to me, he can get in touch and I'll be right over."

Amory takes the envelope.

"Thanks for your time, Doctor. Sorry to have interrupted..."

Climbing aboard the Harley just as the meter tosses up its red flag, Protector roars away from the hospital. 'I suppose I really do trust him,' he thinks. 'McBain will know right away that the card is mine. If I thought he was in with VIPER, I guess I wouldn't have done that, would I?' He grins behind the visor of his helmet, realizing he just realized what his gut had been trying to say, if he had only stopped listening to his brain long enough to hear it. Knightblade is a Hero. Something is wrong, and he's going to need the skills of an investigator to get out of this with his hide intact.