Witches of the West
March 28th, 1890
Green River, Utah Territory, United States of America
19.33 hours
March 28th, 1890
Green River, Utah Territory, United States of America
19.33 hours
Almost an hour after sunset, the 2-8-0 ‘Consolidation’ eased its way into Green River Station. The train had slowed down to cross the Green River bridge, and continued at a steady pace to its final resting point for the day; the end of the Denver line. The next day, the Consolidation would be turned around at the range and make its way back to Denver, and beyond to the East Coast, from whence it had come.
Matthew J. Callahan sat by the window in one of the two cars, rented exclusively by the War Department for their comfortable transport to what remained of the western frontier, eagerly tapping his leg, willing the train to move faster. Spending 80 hours in cramped compartments together was enough to get to know any person; something special agent Callahan desperately wanted to avoid. He didn’t want the Department to consider him for another one of these assignments. Looking around the train car at his charge, Callahan would rather spend a year aboard a battleship than spend an hour longer than necessary with them.
“Just in time” Messiah Hahn said, taking the seat in front of him. The broad man, face set with a heavy grey beard and deep lines around his eyes, was a War Department veteran, and deeply knowledgeable about the superpowered. He was permanently attached to the Special War Bureau, the euphemistic designation for the division that dealt with the superpowered. Hahn looked perpetually tired, deep bags under his eyes, and was a chain smoker, leading Callahan to wonder whether he was actually old, or just looked like it.
“Half an hour later, and we’d have to find other lodgings” Hahn added, his voice muffled through his smoking pipe. The War Department veteran had made all necessary arrangements, including buying horses in advance and getting reservations for the most discreet hostel he could find; one next to a whorehouse, that specialised in anonymity.
“You’d think that traveling with these Extras is as bad as fucking a whore” Callahan quipped. Hahn cracked the most miniscule of smiles below his pipe, but then quickly shook his head.
“Tis worse around these parts. Knowing a whore will get you out of prison. Sharing a drink with an Extra will get you hanged” Hahn answered. Callahan, for the first time, realised that their arrival under the cover of darkness was no coincidence. Looking at the haggard face of Hahn, Callahan wondered how many hundreds of other eventualities the bearded civil servant was prepared for, and whether that kind of responsibility was worth the power it came with.
It was the only thing that drew Callahan to this assignment. The idea of holding these living weapons, worth whole divisions of troops, at his fingertips, and directing them towards the enemy. Looking sideways at some of the individuals at his mercy, he felt like a Napoleonic general, and wondered if there was anyone as powerful this side of the Rockies and the Mississippi.
“You got the names?” Hahn asked curtly. Callahan, awoken from his deliberations, noticed that the train had stopped. Slowly, the Extras that had been staying in the other car were filtering in, as instructed. They were to be briefed on their first target in the rail car, away from preying eyes of lookers-on. At least, as long as their presence was still unknown. Callahan looked at Cactus Jack, and wondered how long they could keep their presence a secret.
From his briefcase, Callahan procured three envelopes, each closed with a wax seal of the War Department. They had each been numbered with pen, a small circled number just below the seals. The identities of unsecured Extras were a state secret; not only to keep them from foreign enemies, but from domestic ones as well. The Civil War, 25 years earlier, was still remembered by veterans like Hahn, and while the politics of the nation had changed, nobody was eager to relive the assassination of president Garfield; murdered by an icicle which perforated his back.
“Gentlemen, I…” Callahan, began, before correcting himself. The idea of employing women for a task this dangerous was still uncomfortable to him, though Hahn seemed entirely unfazed.
“Oh, and ladies, of course, for this occasion. I will not bore you with some speech about why you are here, that’s between you and God. I have in this envelope the name and details of an individual currently wanted by the War Department. The Secretary impressed on me personally the need to acquire this person alive, and preferably willingly”
Callahan snapped the wax seal in two and opened the envelope, retrieving the paper inside. The file was very short indeed, and attached was only a single photograph.
Wexler Terrence (middle)
No known aliases
W. Terrence was a captain in Confederate service during the civil war. During the chaos of reconstruction, he rode with the Klan in the first year after its founding, but soon vanished west. Last reported sighting in Hanksville, Utah Territory.
Wexler Terrence (W. Terrence) exhibits powers related to weather, although it is unknown if he can control it willingly, or whether it changes around him. It is also unknown whether he causes weather or whether he can locally influence the degree in which it occurs. Known dangers include lightning strikes and localised heavy winds. Military use cannot be understated; the Navy has indicated interest in acquiring this individual as a priority.
Under the confederate pardons, W. Terrence falls under the superpowered exception to the aforementioned pardons. The president is willing to pardon W. Terrence for his previous transgressions if he were to join United States service under the War Department.
“This information, gentlemen, is not… oh, ladies… is not to leave this company or this state until this individual is safely in my custody. If you bring him to Green River, the cavalry will take it from here”
It felt strange to Callahan that the 100 carbines of the US cavalry stationed at Green River, nominally to protect the railroad, paled in comparison to the handful of specials under his command.
“If there are no more questions, please follow mister Hahn to the hostel. We have two-person rooms, please divide the rooms among yourselves”