Merc's Metamorphs
copyright 2024 comidacomida
Chapter 22: The Chessmaster
Oswald Monroe, Frank's Political Science Professor, The Chessmaster, had always been an enigmatic teacher in Frank's mind. It wasn't that the man was particularly noticeable physically or that he had some kind of mysterious air about him-- quite the contrary. Professor Monroe, in all ways, seemed like a relatively average, middle aged cys white guy. He was probably in his late 40s or early 50s, wore glasses, showed moderate signs of male pattern baldness, and chose his clothes to mimic like how someone would expect a 60's sitcom dad to dressed. Frank had seem the man's car: an almost twenty year old Toyota Carola. Oswald was so mundane that he couldn't even have the most common sedan; it had to be the second most common.
The reason Frank always thought of Oswald Monroe to be enigmatic was because he never saw him around campus; if not for having a class with him, or having run into him on occasion in the parking lot the professor may as well not have existed. The other professors, despite how much they tried to separate their personal lives from work often let something slip; most professors missed a day or two of class due to being ill; some instructors had pictures of family members on their desks; the more engaging teachers would use a personal anecdote about a vacation, a hobby, or silly story about their early life to help present a lesson. Professor Monroe had never done any of those things and, by all appearances, had wiped away any hint of his personal life from anything he presented in class.
Professor Monroe sat down at his desk, lacing his fingers together on the desk in front of himself. "You're in luck, gentlemen... I have a free period between classes. Perhaps now is a good time to talk?"
Frank scowled. "My next class is--"
The Chessmaster smiled, holding up a filled out form. "Your next class isn't any concern because I have an administrative request form already completed so you can get teacher's assistance credit toward your poly sci degree... I'm sure your Research methodology professor would agree that it more than makes up for you being a little late, don't you think, Mr. Garcia?"
The young man hesitated. "I'm not really sure what there's to talk about."
Christopher reached out and rested a hand on Frank's shoulder. "Professor Monroe doesn't usually do one-on-one meetings with his students, Frank. It'll be worth hearing him out. I promise.
Frank, feeling a little defensive, snapped back. "Well, with you here, technically it's two-on-one."
Professor Monroe gestured to the two armchairs at the front of his desk. "It's a cordial conversation, Frank. I promise. After everything that happened in Santagua, the follow-up with the State Department, and now the issues surrounding the death of Torpedo, I wanted to extend an olive branch, part the curtains, find an even-ground so to speak and talk to you face to face."
The young man hesitantly took a seat. "You're right. You people have been pulling Merc's Metamorphs' strings so much lately I DO think that I deserve to know more. Does this mean you're goin to start talking?"
His professor offered a disarming smile; it was an expression that he used quite often in class when trying to placate a frustrated student. "I owe you that much, Frank. Of course. Feel free to ask a question."
Frank leaned forward in his chair, challenging the Chessmaster with his gaze. "Marcus Hillsdale. How much do you know about him?"
Oswald reached into his top drawer and pulled out a file, then slid it across the desk so that it sat right in front of Frank. "An entire dossier. All yours."
The young man looked down at it, then up at The Chessmaster, then back down at it. "You just had it sitting here waiting for me?"
Professor Monroe renewed his grin. "He was one of the top three things I had anticipated you'd want to know about. I had been trying to get Torpedo under contract ever since N.A.L.E. changed administration."
Opening the folder, Frank paused when he saw the portrait photo of Torpedo's human form and he quickly closed it. "Why would you want him under contract?"
The Chessmaster leaned back in his chair. "N.A.L.E. was caving to anti-Metamorph sentiment. Legendary Heroes are easy to market and Altered are easy to control; Metamorphs are a variable on which most business-minded entities don't like to wager. I was trying to secure Torpedo's services so I could keep him safe."
Frank wasn't sure what to think, but he had trouble believing that he was being told the entire truth. "Such a humanitarian."
Professor Monroe laughed. "Well... that certainly is the kind of banter I'd expect from Merc. Perhaps you aren't as different from your Metamorph form as you might think."
Frank wasn't really up for banter. "What's your angle really? If you're The Chessmaster then I'm sure nothing's as easy as 'I just want to help.'."
Oswald shrugged. "I am at a loss of what to say, honestly. You've been through enough of my classes to know my views on how Metamorphs and Altered are treated. Part of creating a fair and equitable system means that it needs to be fair and equitable for everyone... not just what's convenient."
Rolling his eyes, Frank stood up. "So it's your civil rights moment-to-shine?"
Christopher reached out and placed a hand on Fran's shoulder. "Just hear him out, Frank... please?"
Remaining standing for several seconds, Frank took a deep breath and sat back down. "Fine. Just... get to the point. I've never been much for the cloak-and-dagger bullshit."
The Chessmaster nodded amiably. "Fair enough. Frank, I am trying to reshape the playing field of the Powered. Legendary Unlimited has controlled most aspects of Powered Heroes for close to one hundred years. As we've talked numerous times in class that monopolies do little but line the pockets of a chosen few while profiting off of the needs of the masses, it should not take much of a leap of logic to understand that I do not like the status quo."
Oswald had a point, and Frank wasn't worried about giving him credit for that. "Well, duh. Legendary Heroes get all the publicity and all the love because they're the ones who have the claim to fame. Metamorphs only ever get recognition as mascots and most keep our Human identity a secret because we're worried about people coming after us while we're weakened. Not exactly a fair distribution of power, right?"
Professor Monroe offered a succinct nod. "For those who want to use their powers to help others, they're relegated to second-class status. Exploitation and racism run deep in the Powered community, and that isn't even bringing up the Altered. It's gone on for too long and I've set plans into motion to help change things."
Frank's eyebrow perked up at that. "Oh yeah? And how's that going to work?"
His Professor tapped the desk with his index and middle finger. "Very methodically. Very slowly. Very carefully. Changes like this either happen fast and bloody, or gradually with copious amounts of planning ahead of time to ensure that all pieces are in place."
The young man huffed out a humorless 'ha'. "Yeah? Making sure the 'pieces are in place' sounds like something a chessmaster would do... Chessmaster."
Oswald nodded, seemingly unaffected by the shout out. "Mmm... this is true. But, bear in mind that there is a symbiosis between player and piece; neither can accomplish anything without the other. This kind of systemic change will not be easy, but nothing worth doing ever is. It is for this reason that I wanted to ask for your help. No more pulling strings; no more working from the shadows.; no more secrets. Man to man, Frank Garcia: I would like you and the rest of your team to join me in this endeavor."
Before Frank could speak up, Christopher sat down on the chair beside him. "I've known The Chessmaster for about a year. He recruited me my first year and, ever since then, I've been Professor Monroe's TA. I've watched what he's managed to accomplish by himself and without little help. With your help we could move mountains."
Frank glanced to his boyfriend. "We?"
Cy nodded. "I want to help The Chessmaster, Frank... that's why I took the name Rook and started working with him. I was the one to suggest testing Merc's Metamorphs and, once everything... ah.. turned out the way it did, I suggested letting you in on the plan and coming clean. No more secrets, remember?"
Glancing between Christopher and Oswald, Frank let out a long sigh, running his thumb against the palm of his fingerless glove. "No more secrets, huh? Then what else can you tell me about Ngalyod's Grasp?"
Oswald reached into his desk and pulled out another file. Frank realized his expression must have given away his thoughts as the Professor shrugged with a smirk. "Also one of the top three things I anticipated you asking."
Frank looked once more at The Chessmaster, then Christopher, and then down at the file. He opened it up and begain skimming through what appeared to be a collection of very old newspaper clippings, photocopies of text book pages, and what looked like snapshots of hand-written notes-- not all of them were in English; there were a few in Spanish, and some in another language he didn't recognize.
As Frank looked over them, Professor Monroe began talking. "Ngalyod, also known as The Rainbow Serpent, was a legendary creature in the aboriginal culture of Australia. His characteristics change from story to story, sometimes presented as male and sometimes as female-- a being of creation and destruction. Most of all, a spirit of potential."
Frank continued looking through the pages in the folder, seeing a collection of snapshots of what looked like cave paintings. Christopher spoke next. "It was said that a holy relic was enchanted by a great shaman with a portion of Ngalyod's power-- it was a glove that gave the bearer the ability to change shape, to gain and release different powers, and to transform others in a great flood."
The Chessmaster leaned forward, pointing to what looked like an old-timey 1920s photo of what had to have been Frank's glove in some kind of display case. "From what I understand of your situation, Frank, you have become a Metamorph, and bestowed the same trait upon your two room mates, Juan and Chance, and now Christopher as well. This aligns with the stories, as well as the rumors that surround the glove, which is now in your possession."
The young man looked at the glove covering his hand. He flexed and clenched his fingers several times, hearing the leather creak comfortingly. "Yeah? Well... it's certainly an interesting little thing, isn't it? Do many people know that magical items exist and are responsible for making Metamorphs?"
Professor Monroe smiled patiently. "The general public? No... they have no idea. Others such as the governments of the world, or Legendary Unlimited? They've known for quite some time, and they look for ways to use them to their advantage."
Frank scowled. "Sounds about right."
The Chessmaster cleared his throat, and made no attempt to hide his clearly reeling the conversation back in. "Be that as it may, as the bearer of Ngalyod's Grasp, you may notice certain aspects of the glove affecting only you and not others."
Before Frank could make any comments on the glove, Christopher spoke up. "well... the glove HAS started dripping..."
Professor Moroe raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Dripping? How so?"
Quickly stepping in to make sure he could control the narrative and flow of information, Frank explained. "I can't take it off... it's on me all the time. Lately, every now and again, it gets kinda itchy and sometimes it leaks a little... like the leather tannin or whatever tanned it is mixing with my sweat and dribbles down my palm."
The Chessmaster didn't seemed bothered. "Well, Ngalyod was said to be a water serpent associated with flows. Has there been anything distinct about the 'dripping'?"
In order to better maintain focus on what he wanted to share, Frank shot a glance at Christopher who, despite frowning, seemed to defer to him. Looking back to Professor Monroe, the young man elaborated. "Like I said... it itches. Usually clears up after a shower, but it's impossible to tell how clean everything gets because the glove doesn't come off. Still, the fact that I can get water under it seems to help and it makes the itch go away fast enough."
Oswald nodded thoughtfully. "I see... and are there any indicators when the 'dripping' is coming on? Any kind of forewarning, or triggering that you've found?"
Frank really didn't feel inclined to mention that it seemed to happen the most when he was dealing with any of a number of stressors that left him furious-- at least, that's what seemed to do it the most. "Not really. It's been a pretty recent thing lately and I guess I haven't seen any trends or patterns yet."
The Chessmaster nodded thoughtfully. "Okay... and have you noticed any other recent changes? Things that didn't seem to happen before?"
Realizing he had to throw the man SOMETHING to occupy him, Frank chose to focus on the thing that he personally wanted an answer to the most. "Well... a real recent thing is that I changed into form without wanting to."
That caught the Professor's interest; the man sat up a litle straighter, focusing entirely on Frank. "Really? It forced you into out of your Metamorph form?"
The young man began rubbing his palm through the glove. "Into."
Oswald looked like he was a dog that was just handed a bone. "Really? That IS interesting... and, tell me, Frank... did the rest of your companions also change forms?"
Frank shook his head. "Nope. They stayed Human."
Quickly grabbing a pad of paper, The Chessmaster began writing down notes with glee. "Now that is potentially game changing, and could be potentially useful if ever you need to throw off potential nosy government agents."
The young man didn't get his point. "How so?"
Christopher wasted no time in explaining. "Merc's Metamorphs are always seen together... if you go out by yourself it may help redirect attention away from the three of you."
The Professor cleared his throat. "Four now... you're included in this, Christopher. Do not forget that."
Frank didn't like the sound of that. "Rook hasn't made his debut yet."
Professor Monroe smiled patiently. "Planning for the future, young man. Best to determine your own moves before you have to respond to those of an opponent."
Cy thankfully redirected the conversation. "So, Professor, you think that Frank's ability to change into Merc without everyone else changing into their Metamorph form could come in useful, then?"
Oswald nodded. "There is definitely the potential, yes. Any time you can confuse otherwise consistent data with an undetermined variable it can help confuse and misdirect... particularly helpful when you don't want to be found out. Still, this is something that we should take some time to study further-- not in an invasive way, mind you... but by exploring its uses, limitations and perhaps triggers."
Frank didn't like the way the professor added in that last part; the young man was specifically trying to avoid suggesting that his transformation wasn't completely out of his control, but, considering the way he'd presented it, he supposed it wasn't' that much of a jump of logic on The Chessmaster's part. "Well... so long as you're not gonna poke or prod me, cut me open, or anything else too 'personal' I guess we could spend some time looking into it. Merc and his team are between jobs right now so any time not during class would probably work out just fine, thanks."
Professor Monroe shook his head. "That would be nice, but, no... I fully anticipate that you are going to be contacted tomorrow by the Defense Department. My apologies, but your weekend is likely to be called for, Frank."
That statement caught the young man by surprise, and immediately caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. "What? The Defense Department? Are you sure? Why would they reach out now?"
Smirking, the older man leaned back in his char. "Well... there are a number of reasons I am referred to as 'The Chessmaster', and seeing the signs of moves several steps ahead should be part of my standard operating procedure so, yes, Frank, I am quite confident that you'll be hearing from your handlers tomorrow... or perhaps even tonight."
Scratching at his palm, Frank grit his teeth. "Okay... if you know THAT much, maybe you can tell me why the Secretary of State is involving Merc's Metamorphs at all? You've said it yourself: they avoid political situations like the plague."
Professor Monroe nodded solemnly. "Yes, and that is PRECISELY the reason they want to involve Merc's Metamorphs. All signs point toward the group being used as part of a political campaign."
Frank grit his teeth. "Mierda."
Oswald nodded. "Yes. 'Mierda' indeed." He sat up a little straighter, folding his hands together on the desk in front of him. "Frank, you have been a very capable student in my classes and, in all the ways that matter, Merc's Metamorphs is a phenomenal Metamorph group that is deserving of its net positive status. Those in charge see the group as a resource to be exploited... but I don't want that for one of my students, any more than I presume you want that for your Metamorph alter ego... am I right?"
The young man had to fight to keep from responding with sarcasm. "We avoid politics for a reason, Professor. This is NO exception."
Offering a calm smile, Professor Monroe nodded. "Good. I want to do anything I can to help Merc's Metamorphs break free of government control. It's not just a bad look for you, but the government has a way of messing with both authenticity and reputation.
Christopher spoke up. "Professor... you mentioned Rook before... I presume that was for a specific reason?"
Frank quickly interjected. "I already said: nobody knows about Rook yet... there's no reason to involve him in this."
The Chessmaster smirked. "There are actually a number of reasons providing The Rook an introduction would be smart. There is precedence for including a fourth member in a Metamorph group-- most do work as a quartet."
Frank definitely didn't agree. "We've already established that The Rook's Metamorph powers are best served behind the scenes and not out in the field. I'd feel a lot better if we didn't put anyone else at risk for something like this. Besides, like I said: as long as nobody knows about Rook we have surprise as an advantage. He'll be safer back at home."
Tapping his lips with a single finger, Professor Moroe was quiet for several seconds before leaning back in his chair again, letting out a slow exhale. "Frank... are you honestly sure that The Rook wouldn't be safer with the team rather than hiding out somewhere alone where he might be uncovered, revealed, or unprotected?"
While Frank wanted to continue objecting, Christopher was apparently willing to side with The Chessmaster. "He's not wrong, Frank... We didn't bother stopping to think about what happens of The Rook gets found out?"
Scowling, Frank gestured toward the Professor. "Well.. he's your mentor, right? Why not just hang out with Monroe when Merc's Metamorphs is out in the field?"
Oswald shook his head. "Not the best plan-- even though I'd be willing to stand in to help however I can, you can't expect someone like me to stand up against a Legendary Hero, a Metamorph, or even an Altered hit squad. Yes, I could be an extra set of eyes, or even a distraction to help The Rook get away but, at the end of the day that would put both of us at risk. I don't have the capacity to keep him safe... not in the same way that a Metamorph group could."
Frank rubbed his palm against the arm of the chair where he sat. "Even if that means taking him into the field?"
Cy offered a demure smile. "Even if it DID involve field work, I DO feel safe around you, Frank..."
Feeling his cheeks flush, the young man cleared his throat; despite how much he hated the idea, The Chessmaster had a good point, and Christopher seemed inclined to think so as well. "I'll check with the guys to see what they think. No promises though. And, if-- and I mean IF The Rook were to join Merc's Metamorphs in the field he would need training first... a LOT of training.
Professor Monroe smiled warmly. "Well... considering the task that the Defense Department will have set up for Merc's Metamorphs, I believe that this could be a fantastic opportunity for The Rook to get some field experience in a relatively low-impact, low-risk manner. You should consider talking it over with Juan and Chance tonight so you can have a plan of action prepared ahead of the call."
Frank found himself scowling again. "You really DO seem to know a lot about a lot... I'm not sure whether that's encouraging or concerning.
The Chessmaster laughed heartily, finally getting up out of his chair and turning off the lamp on his desk. "It's a good thing, Frank... a very good thing. Having information on your side is incredibly useful, both as a valuable tool, and to help you stay armored against any possible future tragedy. Forewarned is forearmed, as they say."
Sighing, Frank ran his fingers through his hair then grabbed the files he'd been presented, following after the Professor and Chris as they both headed toward the exit to the lecture room. "Yeah? I'd like to believe that, but Metamorphs aren't the most trusting folks-- you don't survive with an alternate identity by taking everything everyone tells you at face value without digging further and having some doubts."
Monroe laughed at the response. "I would expect nothing else from a Powered Hero with their head on straight. You gave the right answer, Mr. Garcia-- make me earn your trust. The prospect of being able to make lasting change in this world by partnering with a worthwhile Metamorph group is well worth the effort it will take for me to help you realize that I am indeed on your side, Frank."
The young man reserved any further comments as the Professor unlocked and opened the lecture room door. Christopher offered a quick farewell to Professor Monroe and the two left, heading out into the hallway. They both waited for the door to close, and it was Cy who spoke up first. "He really DOES want to help-- Merc's Metamorphs is the only Metamorph group that's aligned to his way of thinking, and I think it'd be a good thing for both parties to form a partnership."
Frank gave his newest boyfriend a hug and, keeping his voice down, he spoke softly. "I know... and it makes sense... but I just need time. I gotta think this out, and I need to talk to the guys."
Christopher shared the embrace and, as they disengaged, he responded. "Right. Makes sense."
Once they had parted, Frank was almost ready to rush to his next class, but he paused, waving down the Asian student. "Cy?"
"Yeah?"
Offering a soft smile, Frank gently brushed his boyfriend's shoulder with his fingers. "Come by for dinner tonight... around 7. It'll give me a little while to talk to everyone else... then we can talk as a group."
Cy paused. "As a group, or as a GROU--"
Stepping closer so he could silence his boyfriend with a kiss, Frank then proceeded to jog toward his next class, calling over his shoulder. "Welcome to the team!"
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