| Stories # - L | M - Z | Authors
Review this story
To the Victor… Tog had
arrived back at the base to find Epim standing in the entry
way. “Glad you’re
back, I was worried when I heard the call, but Marcus won’t tell me what’s going
on. Where is Lis’?” “Marcus got a
package from the butler at that house from last year. A nice
package. Lis saw it, called us to get him and took
off.” “What was in
it?” “Just a phone
transcript that links Danforth to the riots, the stuff at the hotel, and maybe
the explosion at the Crey lab in IP.” “Nice.
Let me see.” Epim’s radio
announced an incoming message. “Ep, it’s
Mournin’. We’re in Galaxy and a warehouse just blew up.
It blew up ugly. We could use some help tendin’ to the
injured.” Epim glanced
at the address on the bottom of the transcript. “Where
exactly?” “Warehouse 8
in Constellation way.” “We’re on the
way.” She looked at Marcus, “You think she went
there?” “I’d bet on
it. She took off as soon as she saw it on that
paper.” “Mourning, we
think Lis’ may have been in there.” The group
arrived at the warehouse to see the fire was mostly out, and many heroes helping
with the injured. Mourning was inside, pushing the flames into
corners where the fire crews could be most effective, and emitting the
occasional puff of chemical vapor to help them move a little faster and reduce
fatigue. There was no
sign of Lista. ~~~~~ Later that
evening, a small group sat around a table and discussed what
happened. “We can’t
reach her,” said Mourning. “Her last suspected location was that
warehouse, but she’s not in it. If she’s not there, and we can’t
reach her, then I’d guess someone caught her and took her out of the place
before they blew it up to hide it.” “You don’t
think she’s dead?” asked Marcus. “I doubt
it. If she were close to death, her medical teleporter would have
kicked in. She might have been taken out of range
though.” “Well, she
got caught at the address on the transcript, so Danforth has to be
involved. I say we go get him.” “We can’t,
Marcus.” “Why the hell
not?” “Because that
might be what he wants. He’s really popular right now, and he got
that way by standin’ up to the hero community. He’s also got that
judge on his side, plus there are probably a lot of others we don’t know
about. He’s supplied cars to both local and federal law
enforcement, so they have reason to like him too. The best thing
for him would be for a band of heroes to go in and assault him.
Especially if we’re wrong.” “You think
he’s not involved? Did you even read that
transcript?” “Yes.
The person identified as “RD” is assumed by the investigator to be
Danforth because the calls were made from his office; but all at around
“God you
think a lot,” Marcus said as he stood up so quickly the chair he was sitting on
fell over. “We have to
look at everything before we do somethin’ stupid.” “Sometimes
you can’t see everything!” “Then you
evaluate what you can see and go with the most likely
solution.” “And
sometimes everything you can see still isn’t enough, so you have to go with your
gut. If the community cards are the 5, 6, and 7 of clubs, the 2 of
hearts, and the jack of diamonds, the other guy could have a straight, a flush,
a straight flush, or he might have a steaming hand of crap. How he
bets can tell you if you know what to look for, but in the end, you have to go
with your gut.” “You also
have to look at the stakes of the game. If you’re playin’ for a
20,000 dollar pot, it’s not much of a risk. Not for you.
We’re talkin’ about playin’ for the public image of all heroes in
Paragon, and we’ve been losin’ for about eight months. You’re
right. Odds are good Danforth is involved, but that still doesn’t
mean he knows where she is.” “How could
that be?” “Let’s say he
is in charge of things. He has his people set up a trap and
wait. The warehouse blowin’ up might be the message that they got
someone, but that doesn’t mean he will know who they have or where they took the
person they got. We need more information.” “Okay, what
do you suggest?” “Two
things. First, we need to confirm that this transcript is
real. It could be a forgery and part of the trap.
Second, we need to see who really owns that
warehouse.” “And just how
do you propose doing that?” “Legwork. And
Athena.” ~~~~~ A fitful
night ended with an unwelcome dawn. Few on the team had slept,
with many searching for clues on the street and in the smoldering carcass of the
warehouse. By late afternoon, Athena had managed to confirm that
telephone calls were made from Danforth’s office on those dates and
times. Similar investigation showed that the package with the
transcripts was mailed from just outside Mourning was
able to track down the desk that had been in Brian Devon’s office and found that
it had been bought at an estate auction by someone in “So,” said
Tog. “How sure are we that this thing is
real? “Almost
positive,” said Mourning.” “We were able
to track down the warehouse owner for about six holding companies, then the
trail just stopped,” said Marcus. “So now
what?” An alert
chime interrupted the conversation. Athena had a message.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but there is a visitor in the guest lounge for
Tog.” “Ack, she’s
early. Well, might as well come meet her.”
The group
left the conference room and entered the guest lounge. On arrival,
Tog looked around expectantly, then froze. Before them stood a man
of about 50 who bore a beaten and weary expression. He was
muscular and fit, but time had not been kind. “Doug!
Here! It’s me.” Doug
approached the older man slowly. After looking him over, he said,
“You’ve got some nerve showing up here. I thought you didn’t have
the chance for parole.” “Me too, but
someone pulled some strings. I was told that you had arranged it,
being the big hero and all now.” “No.
It wasn’t me. As far as I’m concerned you should be in
there ‘til the day you die, and frankly I’d have much rather it had been long
before now.” The older man
looked hurt by the words, “Is that any way to talk to your
dad?” “Dad?
DAD?!” He yelled, as the room fell silent. “A ‘dad’ is
someone that takes you fishing, or teaches you to catch a ball or ride a
bike. A ‘dad’ is someone that’s there to tell you it’s okay to go
to sleep because there are no monsters under the bed. A ‘dad’ is
someone that actually seems to give a damn about you. You are a
lot of things, but ‘dad’ isn’t any of them. You’re the just the
guy that knocked up my mom.” “Hey, I know
I messed up but I’m still your father.” “Messed
up? Mom died! Do you even get that?
Mom is dead because you killed her!” “Doug—“ “It was a
closed casket. They couldn’t get her face put back well enough to
tell that she was a woman. Did you know
that?” “Doug, listen
to me…” “Davy was
14. He sees you break in to the apartment and starts screaming for
help, and your answer is to hit him with a softball bat? Good plan
there ‘dad’. Really thought that one through! I
guess “Parenting for Morons” had too many big words for
you.” “Dammit,
Doug. Shut up and listen to me!” Or
what? You’ll hit me? I got news for you.
I got hit in the face with a car last week, I’m pretty sure I can take
whatever you can throw, but I’m willing to let you try your luck.
Hell! I’ll give you two free ones. It’ll be
like old times. You get a new belt or would you like me to find
one for you?” “I don’t want
to hit you.” “Is it
because I’m not 10 anymore? Maybe I could find a teenaged girl in
here for you to hit. Would that be better for you?
Hey Kym! Come here, meet my father, just keep your guard
up.” A dull, black
mist surrounded the girl as she backed away. “Doug,
dammit. Listen to me. I never expected to get out of
prison.” “That’s what
‘life without parole’ means.” “Because I
never expected to get out, there is a lot of stuff I never expected to have to
say.” “You mean
like, ‘sorry I used to beat you to sleep’, ‘sorry Davy had no memory of his
mother’, ‘sorry you guys had no shot a normal life, living in that orphanage’,
‘sorry I brutally murdered the only two people that ever loved you’.
Stuff like that?” “Would you
let me talk?” “The only
thing you could say right now that I think I want to hear is ‘Is that an axe?’
and half a scream. How sure are you that you want to keep
talking?” Epim moved
close to Doug, but was careful not to touch him. She said, very
softly, “Doug. Let him talk. I’m right here for
you.” “Yeah,
Doug. Listen to her. I’ve gone through a lot, and
I’m getting older. Listen to what I have to say.
Please.” Epim felt Tog
relax a tiny bit as he said, “Fine. Talk.” “I’m getting
older, like I said. And I never thought I’d get out of prison
alive. When I got my papers, I realized that I was on my own
again. That I’d have to make it on my own. I’m old,
and I’ve been inside a long time. I’m also not in the best of
health…” “So, what,
you want a kidney? Bone marrow? A lung?
Cause if it’s forgiveness you’re after, you’ve got a hell of a lot better
shot at getting any of those things from me.” Epim placed
her hand on his arm. “Son,
I—“ “Don’t you
dare ‘son’ me, you psychopath. Actually, let me apologize.
There are some psychopaths here that I actually feel pretty close
to. I’d hate to lump you in with them. You know,
Charles Manson called his followers his children. Funny thing is
though. I don’t recall him killing any of his ‘children’.
That still puts him above you in my eyes.” Epim’s grip
tightened. “Fine.
Doug. I’m here because I didn’t need a plan for when I got
out of prison, until now. I woke up today, and they let me
out. You’re my only son…” “Not. My!
FAULT! And sure as hell not by
choice.” “You’re my
only son. That means, it’s your responsibility to take me in and
support me until I can get social—OOF!” In the still
room, the crack of the blow seemed to echo forever. Doug’s father
staggered then collapsed on the floor. Epim stood
holding her broken hand. “Doc!
What the hell?” Tog stared at her in surprise. “I wasn’t
sure The Other Guy could hold you back much longer, and I sure as hell wasn’t
going to listen to any more of it.” “I didn’t let
TOG through. He wanted the old man worse than I did, but I fought
him off. You gonna heal that hand?” “No.
I earned this one. It’s going in a
cast.” Tog turned to
the rest of the base, which had now gathered in the common room.
“Everyone, I’m really sorry about that. Bert, I—I’m
sorry.” As he walked
off to the pad to the lower levels, Kym came up beside him and placed her tiny
hand in his. “Wow, I guess my parents really aren’t so
bad.” Tog continued
looking at the floor as they walked. When they got to the pad, he
dropped to one knee and looked at her, tears welling in his eyes.
“I’m really sorry for what I said. I should never have
brought you into it. You were just the first person I saw.
You know I’d have never let him touch you though,
right?” “Actually,
I’m pretty sure I could have leveled him with one punch. I was a
lot more scared of you just then. But we’re cool. If
you want food or anything later, let me know. Doc is cool for the
shrink stuff, but I’ve got this self pity, parent hating thing down cold.
Therapy can wait a bit. Right now, you need the CD in my
headset. Tracks 4, 5, and 9. On repeat, and crank
it.” Tog gave her
a forced smile and vanished from the pad. On the way to his room,
he stopped at Kym’s door for a moment, then moved on. ~~~~~ Lista felt
herself coming around. There was a throbbing feeling in her head
and a general disorientation, but there was still no sight or sound.
As she became more aware, bits of what she could recall played over and
over in her memory. These recollections came to an end with the
sound of a voice that seemed to come from inside her head. “It appears
you’re coming around. Good. We can get on with
it. There are things I need to know. Things I need
for you to tell me. Before we get into that, however, I need to
make you aware of just what’s going on with you. “First off,
the reason you cannot see is because we have taken the liberty of placing opaque
contact lenses in your eyes. The good news is that they are
extended wear, so you can keep them in for up to six weeks. The
bad news is that you may need up to four sets before we finish with
you. “My voice is
coming to you from a pair of devices much like hearing aids. They
can receive short range radio signals, and can block out virtually all other
sound. You will hear only what I want you hear, and you will hear
it whenever I want you to. It also prevents you from getting a fix
on my position. “That brings
us to the containment of your natural weapons. By now you are
aware that your mouth has something in it. That something is a
small ball with a conductive surface. If the mood strikes me, I
can fill your mouth with electricity. The outside of that device
is a large, flat plate which will not only deflect any frost breath you are able
to generate, but register any sudden drop in temperature and trigger one of the
disciplinary devices. “Continuing
on the theme of your head, you may have noticed that you can’t move
yours. Yes, your hair has been secured to the back of the chair in
which you sit and the high steel collar keeps your head stationary as far as any
up and down motions goes. “Your hands
each hold a small sphere, similar to the one in your mouth. In
addition to a severe electrical current, they can also vibrate with enough force
to dislocate fingers. Around your hands are steel spheres to give
the electricity someplace to go. “Your waist
and limbs are bound to the chair with cord made of a special carbon
fiber. That chair will melt before those bonds
weaken. “Nourishment
and water will be provided in the form of an I.V. in your left arm.
You will not be permitted out of that chair for any reason until we are
done with you. The seat of the chair is open and there is a toilet
below you. As you are naked, when nature calls you are free to
answer. “At random
times, in intervals of 6 to 120 minutes, the device in your mouth, the ones in
your hands, or one of the others I’m leaving as a surprise will activate for 5
to 60 seconds. Any lowering of the temperature around you will
trigger these devices for a minimum of 2 minutes, possibly as many as 10.
But there is no need to fear. None will actually be
fatal. “Finally, a little about me. I do not make threats. They are pointless. A threat is an act of unpleasantness that will befall a person should they do, or not do, something contrary to the desires of the one in control. They are intangible. It’s like trying to train a dog with only the promise of reward or punishment. Instead I make statements of fact. If I tell you that I intend to do something, you can be sure that I will follow through exactly as stated. If there are conditions attached, I will honor them to the best of my ability. Experience dictates that anticipation of injury does little to persuade those of heroic bent, so I’ve come up with this method. I am going to activate these devices, and leave you in their care for a while. It could be hours, it could be days. When I return, I will give you one chance to answer my questions. If you do not cooperate, I will turn up the intensity one level and reduce the interval by ten percent. For each lie, this will double. You will not die in this chair, though you may wish it. I’ll return later, to see if your resolve has softened.” |